


Wild Harp Slung

by B_Radley



Series: Rise and Fight Again [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Ahsoka - E. K. Johnston, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Beginnings, Canon Compliant, Corellians, Darkness, Espionage, Genetically Engineered Beings, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Love, Multi, Rebellion, Rebirth, Redemption, Revenge, Salvation, War, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 74,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9353351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: A soldier, desperate to find and free a brother, enlists the aid of a broken hunter and ex-Jedi. A hunter trying to combat his own darkness.A Fulcrum, against her better judgement, helps a Queen with a personal matter - one that could have far-reaching consequences for the Queen's world and family, as well as  the galaxy as a whole.A caretaker and spy, still reeling from her own losses; begins to search for the hope of her father's world.All while trying to heal from the devastating losses of the Clone War and its aftermath.





	1. Dar'tome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex finds the bouncer/bartender/cook of one of the galaxy's finest watering holes. He is not impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M8-D9 and the unwritten rule of the brown jug are canon. They appear in Aftermath: Life Debt.

**Unknown Regions**

The man wakens; his brain befuddled.

Even more befuddled than it normally is.

He closes his eyes; tries to center his reeling mind. Images flash over the inside of his eyelids. Images of not being born, but decanted. Images of flash-training not unlike that playing out in his brain. Images of looking at thousands of brothers and then looking in mirrors at them all. Images of exploring each other. Of the pains from growing ripping all of them together. Instinctively knowing that they weren't supposed to grow at this rate.

Of training; of his brothers dying in exercises designed to optimize their skills.

Then dying in battle. He smiles; of the joy of brothers surviving. Of singing together. Of a larger version of his brothers, looking at him with contempt; then with begrudging respect; and finally with the love of a true brother. 

Of a young, bearded face, his green eyes analyzing, testing, and finally, looking at them all with love and respect. Of the pain in those eyes when one didn't return. Of honoring them with his Remembrance. Of that same young face being accepted by he and his brothers. Of singing, and celebrating with them. Singing and celebrating in the manner of their imprinted heritages, and of his birthworld.

Of being separated from his brothers. Of not remembering- much like this. Of a handful of intrepid droids and their tiny commander, giving him back his purpose and his life for a brief time.

Of a more recent version of that young bearded face, older and more damaged - damaged in his own way; much like the man trying to remember. He and a laughing, beautiful warrior giving him his purpose once again, after he had been discarded. A purpose of freeing brothers who had been cast off by the new Empire, much like he had been cast off by its predecessor.

Of that same adopted brother slumped over the body of the beautiful warrior; over the bodies of his former brothers who had killed her.

A deactivated lightsaber in his hand.

He is brought to the present by a sharp pain in his neck. A face looks over him. A colorless face. A face over a white version of a hated uniform. The man's expression never changes as the befuddled brain's vision begins to fade.

As it is replaced by intense pain.

Gregor, once known by a number, screams. He tries to block out the pain by concentrating on a litany of his life. A litany all boiled down to one phrase.

_Gregor, Captain, Republic Commandos. CC-5576-39. Gregor, Captain, Republic Commandos, CC-5576-39; my commanding officer is Jedi General Taliesin Croft._

There is only darkness.

~+~+~+~+~+

Commander Orson Krennic looks down on the specimen. He sighs as the clone truly enters stasis. _I really don't have time to to be dealing with this. I have a bigger project that needs my attention. I need to delegate this.....sideshow to someone who knows more about genetics._

He shakes his head and turns to the two patient agents next to him. "Agent Kallus," he says to the first agent, a tall human with impressive side whiskers, "it will be your responsibility to protect the specimens here until we can find the experts that we need to complete the enhancements to our candidates for the personal loyalty squadrons." The agent in question stiffens. "Yes, Commander," he says. "Interface with the naval officers here to provide security," Krennic adds.

He turns to the other ISB agent. This one stands more relaxed, dressed in a non-regulation leather flight jacket, rather than the duty uniform and armor that Kallus wears. Krennic's eyes narrow. _Still thinks of himself of a pilot, apparently._

"Agent Kolan," the research officer says. "You are tasked with finding those experts. I have given you a list. Find them and bring them here."

The agent nods. "I have one other task on my plate, before I am fully yours, Krennic," Kolan says, his dark eyes examining the scientist with disdain.

"No, Agent. You will obey me. And it is Commander Krennic."

Dav Kolan smiles tightly. "Nope. I am only on loan to you, because I am good at finding things. And people. Plus, if you really want to get in a pissing contest over what I call you, I will bring up the fact that I was a full Commander in the Republic and Imperial Navies while you were still trying to kiss Mas Amedda's ass."

Krennic says nothing. Kallus looks at Kolan with fury. Kolan merely smiles and nods as he turns away. "I'll be on Takodana, if you need me." He turns and exits.

He winks at a young naval officer standing at attention near the door. His heart twists as he thinks of another young woman who bore a similar face. One who was now another casualty of the conflagration he had survived.

The young naval officer tries to disguise the horror of what she had witnessed with the rows of stasis tubes. She remembers a similar-looking stasis tube with a Republic flag on it; floating towards her. 

A bearded young Jedi placing his hand on it as it floated by him. 

Lieutenant (junior grade) Rae Sloane manages to bring her features under control, to the Imperial-mask, as she thinks of the many clones who had fought with her sister, who had shed their blood loyally for the Republic and their brothers and officers.

She mostly succeeds. She feels her older sister watching her. Rear-Admiral (promotable) Jana Sloane looks at her in her mind with a sad expression on her face.

Rae steels herself. _Law and order, Jae,_ she tells the shade.

**Takodana  
** **Year 20  
** **Approximately 3 and 1/2 years after the Cataclysm  
**

The hooded man watches the various denizens of the bar of Maz Kanata gradually come awake in the morning hours. His golden eyes are especially focused on the bar and kitchen area. His eyes grow hard as he sips his caf. 

He grabs a server droid on an off-chance. "What does a guy have to do to get some breakfast around this place?" he asks.

The droid does a fair imitation of a shrug. "Can't find the cook," the mech says in an aggrieved tone.

 _Interesting to know_ , the man thinks.

He catches a glimpse of himself in a window. His salt-and-pepper beard hides a very common face in the galaxy at one time.

A face of millions. He pulls his hood up more and adjusts the two well-cared-for-and-used blasters.

He sits back down at his table. He thinks about the man he is seeking. He thinks of his own ghosts. He thinks of a lonely grave with a makeshift headstone. Of two lightsabers lying on the ground in front of it. Two lightsabers that, in the hands of their young wielder, had saved his life on many worlds; on many occasions.

A warrior so powerful. But more than that, a young warrior who meant more to him than any other.

A warrior who may now be another of his ghosts. 

He thinks of the man he is looking for. Another of those ghosts, but not one of his own.

The man once known as Rex, but also known by a number by many sits and waits.

~+~+~+~+~+

The man known by many names in his relatively short life lies on a fur rug in front of a fireplace. He tries to focus his eyes.

Tries and fails. 

As images play over his eyelids; images that twist his heart. The image of a serene huntress, her eyes open and staring on the deck of a landing platform. The image of another Jedi - the jewel in her forehead matching that of the helmet of a large brother. A young naval officer, her eyes cutting into him while she sat on his middle in yet another defeated spar. The sound of her voice fading as her stardestroyer collides with a Separatist frigate, saving many lives.

A younger version of the huntress. One whose eyes stare into his with abandon as they join. His last live memory of her before he slept and she fled. Fled to find her path.

Most recently, a laughing pair of dark eyes over a swollen belly. New life starting in her.

New life snuffed out along with the laughing eyes by a squad of soldiers. Soldiers who had bled, fought, sang and mourned with him in another life. 

Some of them dead for sure, or 'marching far away,' as his brothers said. Others still possibly out there, lost. He opens his eyes to stop the parade of images.

A jolt of electricity to his ass sits him up. The room spins. He turns and focuses on a blurry metallic figure. He reaches back and pulls a metallic dart connected to the droid by a filament from his bare skin.

He throws it back to ME-8D9. Maz Kanata's ancient bouncer. Usually his teammate in keeping order.

"Mistress Kanata wants to see you."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll be there in a few."

"Expedience might be advised."

"Blow it out your metallic ass."

The droid says nothing, but raises his hand and fires another dart into the chest of the man once known as Taliesin Croft. 

Now known simply as King. 

His short scream is gratifying to the droid. Gratifying enough to release the filament and turn and leave.

Getting the last word.

Croft turns on his back, trying again to breathe and stop the room from spinning. 

He is finally able to rise. He grasps the dart and pulls it from his chest. He manages to turn on to his hands and knees. He can feel various sorenesses in his body as he comes to his feet.

He looks down at the rug. He focuses on the bare legs and broad back visible under the blanket.

"Well, that's different." he says to himself.

He walks into the 'fresher and relieves his bladder. He walks out. His bed-partner is still snoring away. He walks over to the pile of clothes. He finds his trousers and manages to pull them on without stumbling.

The next article of clothing that he picks up makes him sit. An old Republic nerf-leather flight jacket. A common enough article in the non-clone elements of the Republic Navy.

It is the cog and rank insignia that gives him pause. A cog with six arms instead of eight. A new type of rank insignia. Two pairs of red and blue squares and one metal cylinder. 

An Imperial commander. 

_Great. You just slept with a member of the regime who killed your extended family._

He manages to make it back to the 'fresher before he empties the meager non-liquid contents of his stomach.

He walks back out. He picks up the jacket where he had dropped it. He yanks the insignia off. A name is on the plate. _Kolan_ is written in Aurabesh on the plate. He searches his memory. The name is vaguely familiar.

He tosses it on the rug. He quickly pulls on the rest of his clothing. He smirks and pulls on the flight jacket. 

His eye falls on a non-descript brown stoneware jug. He shakes his head in disgust. _No wonder one of Maz's unwritten rules is to not drink from the brown jug._

Probably explains why he has no memory of Commander Kolan.

He pulls his gunbelt, a hand-tooled nerf-leather model with a row of teeth inset, onto his hips. He doesn't look back as he walks out with the jug.

~+~+~+~+~+

He walks out into the bar. He looks around furtively. As a testament to how dulled his normally keen senses are, he doesn't notice the golden-eyed gaze watching him.

Or the small orange being watching him as he tries to place the jug back on its high shelf. He adjusts it, then steps back to admire his handiwork.

A loud voice causes him to stumble backwards and fall on his ass. "I see you. You thought you would get away with drinking that brew, didn't you? Come with me, little man."

As he trudges out, the man with the golden eyes looks grimly at him. He shakes his head. _This is my last hope?_

~+~+~+~+~+

The man with the brown jug grabs a bartender. "Jos, there is someone in my room. They'll probably remain out. Could you make sure that they make the Outer Rim transport? With all their clothes and stuff?"

"What's in it for me?" says the Rattataki. The man sighs and pulls several coins from his pocket. The bartender looks at the coins and back at him. He sees something dangerous in the human's green eyes. He nods.

The man once known as Taliesin Croft, but now cares nothing for names, walks into Maz's office to face the music.

~+~+~+~+~+

He follows the diminutive bar owner into her cluttered office. She sits in a chair near the fire. She pulls her goggles down over her eyes. He stares back at her. She doesn't offer him a chair, in spite of his swaying stance.

She finally shakes her head. "Sit," is all she says.

She pulls out a blaster from the side of the chair. She reverses it and hands it to him. His eyebrows raise. Her mouth pulls into a frown. "Why don't you save us all some trouble and put this in your mouth? Just don't do it in my office. I don't want what brains you have left scattered on my wallpaper or rugs."

For one brief microsecond, he considers the offer. In that microburst of time, the faces that he had seen shake their heads.

Especially the two huntresses and the owner of the laughing dark eyes. The closest thing that he had to a mother. His hunt-sister. The mother of his child.

He shakes his head. Maz Kanata sighs and returns the blaster to its hiding place. "This would be quicker, sweetie. You're destroying yourself piece by piece every damned day. I don't know if I can watch it anymore. The drinking. The screwing just about everything that will smile at you. The fighting. Those little side jobs that you take that you come back flush with cash, but with a new scar or limp."

"Do you think that either Ahsoka or J'ohlana would want this for you? Or Drop or Ti or Elle or Jana, or any of those other names you Remember?"

He starts at the mention of their names. His eyes narrow. "You need to leave them out of it, old woman."

"Why, King? Why? All of your dead didn't just live to cause you pain and angst, so that you could wallow in grief and self-pity and pain when they died. They lived for themselves and somewhere along the way they helped shape you. They helped make you."

"You owe it to them to stand up and stop pissing their memories away. You owe it to them to stand up and live."

"I love you, Taliesin Croft - yes, I know. You'll tell me that he is dead. But the man who sits in front of me needs to stop crawling."

Her eyes track downward. "I said that you would have sanctuary when you came here. I meant it." The eyes and their goggles cut into him as her face comes up. "But, if you can't stand up, I will toss your ass out of here."

He is silent, his eyes downcast. "I am sorry, Maz. I'll collect my things and go."

"Where will you go, love?" she asks. "You don't have to. I just need you to stop destroying yourself."

"Lassa Rhayme told me pretty much the same thing when she tossed me off of her crew."

Maz rolls her eyes. "As much as I hate agreeing with that young fool, she was right. You need to escape your past. Not run from it, but live with it."

"I don't know where I will go, Maz. But it is probably time for me to move on. To find another path. Maybe to actually find out what the hell my path is."

He stands up, as she does. She motions to him. She stands on a stool and embraces him. "I do love you and care for you, idiot. I think that there are a few in this universe who do. But you don't need to live for us, or your dead. Live for yourself."

He kisses her forehead. "We'll see, Maz."

She pushes him away. "Now get your ass out there and fix breakfast, at least. There is at least one angry customer who really wants to try your food."

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft walks out into the bar area. The bartender hands him a cup of caf. He sips it as he walks to the kitchen. He notices the bouncer droid and the custodian pulling a heavy burden to the landing areas. Another droid follows with a small duffle. He closes his eyes as he tries to remember the night.

Tries to remember if anything had actually happened after opening the brown jug. He vaguely remembers a dare. A dare to actually bring the brown jug down from its perch. He shakes his head again. _Oh well. Hope that I didn't catch any Imperial-ness from him._

"Are you the cook?" a vaguely familiar accented voice asks.

He turns, starts to give a biting rejoinder. He freezes as he looks into the man's eyes over a unfamiliar heavy beard.

The gold-to-amber-to brown eyes of millions who had shaped his life in the last several years. A face that he had loved as one like brothers.

The face of millions who had slaughtered his family.

His hand moves towards his hip and the heavy blaster holstered there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dar'tome - (Mando'a) state of being separate from people.


	2. Riduurak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex tries to reason with the Storm-King. Someone who has learned stubbornness from the best examples of three worlds.

Rex sees the man's hands move toward the heavy blaster at his waist. He recognizes the gunbelt from his brief time on Z'ambique. A belt that had been decorated with similar teeth that adorned the forehead of his Commander.

For the millionth time whenever her face came to his mind; he breathes a silent entreaty for the young woman. _Please be alive._

He holds his hands up. "Easy, General. Just here to talk."

One side of the man's lips quirk up. His hand stays near the blaster, but he relaxes imperceptibly. "Not a General." he says quietly. Rex can tell that his mind is wandering with possibilities.

"You here to kill me?" the man that Rex knew as Taliesin Croft asks. The trooper's eyes crinkle. "If I was, I would've killed you already when you were falling on your ass. Never seen a Jedi so clumsy, Croft."

"You obviously have me mistaken for someone else. Why don't you move along? If you want to enjoy my omelet, then sit your ass down. Otherwise, you can pound gravel, Captain."

Rex's eyes widen at the title. Croft shakes his head and curses at his slip. "So this is the great Taliesin Croft, General of Commandos and shit-hot Jedi Shadow. Have to say, General, not really impressed."

"Yeah, well, just as I live for impressing broken-down clones who probably should've been spaced a few years ago."

Rex moves within a foot of Croft's face. "Yeah, well, I have all the time in the universe to stand here playing footsy with a useless drunk who my Commander, who I respect more than any being alive, thought that the sun shone out of his ass." He plunges forward, in spite of the pain and memories. "Against my better judgement, I didn't shoot you when I could. Because of how much that young woman loved and respected you. I almost did out of abject pity when I saw you. To put you out of your own misery."

Rex sees the man visibly slump, his eyes closing. He gives the a Corellian a moment. When the man's eyes open again, he runs his hand over his own temple, touching the tiny scar there. "Like Gregor, I had it removed. You should know what this scar means." He pauses, his own mind reeling for an instant. "I need your help. Gregor believed enough in you to lead me in your direction. Even though you abandoned him and his cause when the going got tough."

Croft's eyes flash for an instant. His voice is low and dangerous. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about."

Rex forges ahead as he sits back down at his table. Croft remains standing, his fists clenched. "Yeah?" the former captain says. "I know that you were a Jedi who my brothers would follow to hell and back. Even when you were a snot-nosed Padawan put into a role you weren't prepared for." He smiles. "That first day on Kamino. You showed me something. When you took the time to salute my troops and I as we marched by. Of knowing enough about military traditions. Later, after you had beaten that hard-headed Null, you showed me something more by keeping him. Probably saved him from a horrible death at the hands of the long-necks."

He can see his words hit home. He continues. "I have watched you for the last three nights. I have seen no evidence of that man. I've watched you drink, fight and fuck yourself towards oblivion.Saw you go off with that Imperial pilot last night. That was probably lower than anything else that you went off with."

Croft smiles. "Well, the jury is still out on whether anything actually happened on that one. I doubt either one of us knows."

Rex shakes his head with a smirk. "You seemed pretty intent on something happening after about the fourth swig for each of you from that shit on the wall over there."

He grows serious. "Look, as much as I would love to discuss your sex life, I don't have a lot of time." Rex looks the Corellian in the eye. "Gregor is in trouble. I think that the Imps have him."

In spite of his callous exterior, Croft sits. "What does it have to do with me?" he asks. Rex takes a bite of the omelet that had been patiently waiting on him, nods approvingly. "Gregor and I had dedicated comms for emergencies. He sent me a flash text." He fishes in a belt pouch and pulls out a small piece of flimsi.

"The text had the words _Bess'laar'a Verd_ at the start of it. Mean anything?" he asks challengingly. Rex sees the man's face go elsewhere. Back to a time when his life meant something. Croft smiles. "Yeah, it does." A picture of brothers singing, releasing the fear and death from a cauldron flashes into his mind. Of those brothers giving him his name. A name in Mando'a; a language imprinted upon them.

"A name given to a dead man," the former-Jedi said. "So, it lead you to me. What else?" 

He hands the flimsi to Croft. "This series of numbers and letters followed your old name. The message ended with one word."

_"Aay'han."_

Croft closes his eyes. Rex can see the pain flow over the man's features. 

The Corellian's mind moves to that word. What it means.

The bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy.

In his mind, he starts a litany. A litany that is the demonstration of that word. _Remembering and celebrating._

Rex can see the litany of Remembrance in his eyes. He starts his own. One name that is not mentioned is that of the Smirking young Togruta. He is fairly certain that the name is on Croft's.

Since the possibility of having to find Croft had crossed his mind, an internal debate had raged. Whether to let her... _What did she call him? Her hunt brother_ \- know that she had been alive when he had last seen her, running like he was from Mandalore.

Each time, he had decided against it. One, he didn't know in a galaxy in which Jedi were hunted to extinction, whether she was still alive. Two, that was her story to tell him.

"So, do you recognize the other numbers and letters?"

Croft glances at the flimsi. "Nope. Sorry you came all this way, Rex." He stands. "Enjoy breakfast. It's on the house." His face softens. "For all of those marching far away."

As he turns away, he adds. "Don't know how you found me, but I would appreciate if you found your way out of my life. That life has passed."

Rex smiles. "I found you because I heard of a Mando who was still going around doing some good, if for the right price, now. A Mando who always seemed to find his way back here."

The man who was Taliesin Croft nods. "I'll keep that in mind, Rex. I'll correct the mistake."

Rex reaches out to touch his arm. His eyes grow hard. "One thing, Bard. You might want to recall that Gregor is the reason that you don't have a more definite Imperial death mark on you. That he cleaned up your last mess when you went crazy."

Croft eyes him for a moment. "Taliesin Croft and the Warrior-Bard don't exist anymore, Rex. If you have to call me anything, you can call me King. Rather you wouldn't call me at all."

With that, he turns and leaves the room. Rex is thoughtful as he finishes his breakfast. He notices that Croft has taken the flimsi with the letter and number combination.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft walks into his room. He sits down and pours himself a shot of whiskey from the bottle on the table. He notices that there are only about two fingers left in the bottle; a reminder of his heritage. He sighs; closes his eyes. He rubs the heels of his palm over his eyes as memories come unbidden.

_Croft stands in a shabby training dojo on a burned world. Four very large males stand around him clad in full beskar'gam. An equally impressive, if not as large female faces him. They all bear stun-staves. At a signal from the woman, the armored warriors rush him as one. He centers himself as best as he can. He won't be able to call on the mystical 'friend' that had been part of his life, ever since he had thrown a meiloruun at another belligerent Mando when he was three years old._

_Without using his hands._

_The largest of the brothers bellows as he charges towards Croft. +Yep. Telde is the weakest. The biggest and dumbest.+ As the behemoth reaches the ex-Jedi, he swings his fist and connects with the side of Croft's head.He realizes his mistake as he is flying over the Corellian's shoulders, his own stun-staff applied to his ass has he flies over._

_Croft shakes his head. He hear's Skirata's gravelly voice in his head. +Always be able to take a blow to deliver one, boy.+_

_They neglected to mention that he wasn't allowed to wear his own armor for this little ritual._

_He sees the woman point to him. The three remaining gargantuan Mandos rush him as one. He settles into a rhythm of punches and blocks as he dodges and strikes._

_Fifteen minutes later, only one of the huge opponents remain. Croft sways as he watches Tommis circle him warily. He body aches from where the stun-staves had touched him, but not long enough for the full knockout charge to be delivered. One eye is swollen shut and both his nose and mouth leak blood._

_Tommis laughs. "Guess you won't be as pretty anymore, Useless," he says. The laughter has a murderous edge to it. +That's Tommis, he thinks. The smartest, but also the angriest sibling. He might actually kill me, just to prove his point.+ Croft smirks, an expression from his past. +Smart being a relative term for these four.+_

_Tommis rushes him. He swings the stave. As Croft leans back, the Mandalorian leans in and grabs the Corellian's hair. He moves forward and slams his shoulder into Croft's chest. They grapple as Tommis drops the staff to the floor. "Storm-King," he sneers. "More like a fart in a windstorm."_

_"Well, Tommis. You are the expert on farts in this family. I've sat at the dinner table trying to breathe before."_

_Tal gasps, as Tommis squeezes harder. He feels a rib give on his left side. +If they were still alive, there might be respected elders on the Jedi Council rejoicing at that.+ Tommis lifts him above his head and hurls him. As he does, Tal manages to grab and yank the man's buy'ce from his head._

_It slows his trip. He tries to catch his breath after the impact on the far wall. He climbs up as he sees Tommis rushing him. Croft grins as he brings his foot down on the end of a staff. He moves his toes under it and flips it up. The business end connects with his opponent's forehead._

_He turns to his remaining opponent. She is already moving towards him. +She's the fastest one.+_

_The woman swings her staff at his head. He ducks easily. +May not be able to use the terrifying mind powers for this, but Skirata's training has stood me in good stead,+ he thinks._

_The follow-up still strikes his shoulder a glancing blow. As he reels backward, he manages to grab the staff. The stun charge runs up his arm as he wrests it from her hands. A quick reverse and the staff is being held to her side at a joint of her armor. She falls to the training mat._

_He stands over the five siblings. A sharp, beautiful voice cuts into his hearing._

_"What the fuck is going on here?" J'ohlana Wren yells._

_He gives his most disarming grin. "Winning your hand, babe," he says. The grin slowly fades as he sees her look. He turns back to her siblings. He counts five; finishing up the minute past their collapse that is required. He falls to the floor._

_The last thing he hears before the darkness claims him is her softened voice. "You dumbass," she says. "You were mine the day you slunk into my forge."_

_He doesn't hear her whisper. "I was yours, too."_

Croft's smile fades as his reverie is broken by loud voices coming from the bar. His expression darkens. He stalks out. An Iktochi and a Rodian square off. Croft doesn't waste time or breath as one unslings a blaster carbine.

The bartender yells, "No blasters..." There is a burst of red light, noise, and smoke.

The Rodian stares at the split blaster in her hands. The bartender stares at the smoking hole in the wall. He sighs.

The Rodian's vision tracks to Croft. "King, after our night together, you would shoot at me?"

Croft says nothing. He motions to the bouncer droid who has entered the bar. Both combatants fall to the floor, shock darts sticking from various body parts.

He ignores Rex, who sips his caf, watching the byplay. His eyes betray no thoughts.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft returns to his room. He looks at the piece of flimsi that has fallen on the floor when he walked out. He picks it up.

His eyes narrow as he reads the twelve letter-number combinations. 

_M3 S5 T4 M3 S5 D3'T4 M3 M2'D5 A2 M3 B2'J4 V5_

_What is it?_ he thinks, as he stares at the placement of the three _beten'e_ in the string. The 'sigh' or apostrophe that indicates the glottal pause in Mando'a. A memory is triggered.

The man once known as Taliesin Croft, as well as many names, smiles. He lifts his comm. "Hey, Maz. You want me to start living? I need to borrow a ship."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riduurak - (Mando'a) marriage contract


	3. Copikla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warrior's respite. She discovers that a Queen can be persuasive. She also discovers that a tiny princess has her wrapped around her fingers. She discovers a spark of a secret that could bring ruin on a world.

**Alderaan  
** **Eastern Mountains  
** **Approximately 3 and 1/2 years after Empire Day.**

Ahsoka Tano floats. Her mind is at rest for the first time in months. She lets it float as her body does on the sparkling water of the small mountain lake.

She is careful not to let a certain part of her mind float. The part that can touch a mystical energy field that as a small green being once said, connects and binds all things. A connection that could be a curse for this beautiful, peaceful world and its artistic, friendly people.

Her mind floats to a less idyllic time. To places around the galaxy. 

For the first time in a long time, she thinks of her dead. She curses. _A long time. Almost two hours._ When she woke up without a specific battle to fight for the day. 

Another good reason for continuing the fight. 

The death of her way of life. Of those who share that connection that the little green being spoke of. Of her masters and teachers; her fellow Padawans and knights. She feels her sharp predator's teeth in her lips. _The younglings._ All dead at the hands of men she considered her brothers. Men whose control was stolen from them by the ambition of one man.

She thinks of others. A beloved sister, dead with her children. Dead of a broken heart, it was whispered. 

She closes her eyes as she thinks of one of those dead. A fellow hunter of her world. 

A hunter, not of her people, but one schooled in their ways. Schooled by his beloved Master, an elder huntress of that world.

Her hunt-brother and fellow Jedi. A man who helped shape her in their youth. A man who, just before the inferno of the death of their shared lives, had touched her life in a new way. A way that they had both stumbled into as their feelings changed. Had deepened.

She tries to push those memories away. The images are more powerful and vivid than they have been in months. Including some that cause a great deal of warmth for her. _Not exactly thoughts you need to have while floating naked in a lake; at a Royal property._ Her face morphs into an expression that had been her trademark in her youth, but one that she didn't have much cause to use lately. _Not like some of those Royals don't have those thoughts._

She can feel heat on the azure chevrons of her lekku, as she remembers those thoughts this morning. When her hand had strayed to her center with them. Her cries splitting the air of the small room as she remembered to her finish; as the light expanded behind her eyelids. The vision of the hunter's face next to hers as they lay on their sides, wrapped in each other as the light receded. 

She gasps as a wave of pain passes through her body. The Smirk disappears. She fights the tears as she remembers the emotions, not just the physical memories. The memories of a night on a small planet in the cabin of a pirate ship. The memory of making the decision to leave him lying in a bed, as she sought her path. As her hunt-brother tried to decide his. Whether he would remain in a life that he had known since age five. That she had known since age three.

A life that both felt had abandoned them. She with a near-execution for someone else's crime; he from the fallout of that betrayal. Both from the feeling of darkness surrounding the Jedi and the Republic.

She sighs, as she thinks that like everyone else she had known, that hunter was most probably dead at the hands of his brothers, his _Vod'e_. She winces at the thought of a large clone in particular, who had touched her life as much as any of her own brothers, killing the hunter in an uncontrollable urge, brought on by the precursor to the New Order. The New Order that she is now stealthily fighting in fits and starts.

Her eyes open as she hears a noise intruding into her consciousness in her retreat. An aircar flares in for a landing. She is torn between smiling and grimacing as she senses one of the presences on the vehicle. A presence that most probably signaled that her idyll was at an end. She sighs and rolls over and flips underwater. In a half-second, she is swimming to the shore with powerful strokes.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola Vorserrie turns to her true boss and says "Let me go see her first. If she is swimming at this time of the day, she might be in a mood."

Queen Breha Organa-Antilles narrows her eyes. "I am the Queen of one of the most ancient Elder Families in the galaxy. I think that I can handle one young woman who is 'in a mood." A warm, knowing grin flows across her beautiful features. "I also put Bail Organa in his place on a regular basis when he needs it. Besides," she finishes with a wistful grin, "I myself have been a 'young woman in a mood' before."

Nola smiles as respectfully as she can. "Trust me, your Majesty," she says, nodding her head at the tiny figure in the Queen's arms, "as willful and as perceptive as this one already is, you might want me to 'fix' the huntress before you come down."

As she is walking down the trail to the lake, Nola thinks of a nickname that a young Jedi had given her as he helped her escape from a horror. She smiles sadly. _Last Word._

She stops at the shore as her responsibility emerges from the water. She incongruously thinks of old Naboo lake goddess legends as the huntress emerges. She picks up a large towel on the shore and hands it to the young woman. Her eyes narrow, 

"Hey, Tano," the young Naboo says, "much as I am admiring the mildly enticing view, you might want to cover 'em up. You have visitors; visitors who don't necessarily ascribe to Togruta modesty taboos. Or lack thereof."

"It's my day off, Fixer. Wasn't expecting visitors. They can get over it."

_Yep. Mood._

"Quit being an ass, Tano. As good as you are, Alderaan doesn't revolve around you. Queen Breha doesn't have time for your attitude."

Ahsoka's eyes narrow. Nola can see the storm rising in that blue gaze. As usual, she is not impressed. "Maybe it doesn't, Nola, but I think that I have earned a little respect for my privacy."

Nola smiles gently."You have it, Ahsoka. Even though I don't show it, you have a teeny-tiny bit of mine." She pauses. "Not just for your privacy."

She continues as Ahsoka looks at her with a steady, unreadable gaze. "We may not be friends, but in the last six months of being your contact, I have learned some things."

There is something unknown, not just unreadable in the warrior's eyes. Nola plows ahead, as she always does. "I know when to leave you alone when you are mourning. I know that three and a half years later, the wounds are as raw now as they were when Bail found you, a year into it. Even though you don't show them."

She picks up the warrior's water bottle and takes a sip. She hands it to Ahsoka, who tips it up and drains it. "I also know when to kick your ass and get you going before you fall into a funk, as well as when to listen and to coddle you." Her eyes soften."It's what I did that first day we met, when the nightmares that you couldn't keep at bay were ruining your sleep. When you were naming your dead in your sleep. It's why I took you in my arms and rocked you like a baby."

Ahsoka is silent, but the look of fire has dissipated. A tiny gleam comes into those wounded eyes. "Really, Princess? I thought it was foreplay."

The fixer rolls her eyes. _Spare me from not-Jedi who have just learned how to flirt. Learned from a damned Outer Rim pirate, apparently._

She grins. _Wasn't exactly handmaiden training, either. I think I missed it, between blaster training and 'Makeup Tips for Disguising Yourself as Your Queen'._ Her own mind flies to her dead. She forces the emotions to the back of her heart. "Yeah, well. Good thing we got that out of the way the next morning. I don't need that level of boredom in my life every time we meet."

_Not to mention that I don't know that if I had to mourn you; if I could stand to have that added burden._

Ahsoka gives her the full-wattage Smirk. "Didn't seem to bother you at the time."

Nola grows serious. "You might want to cover up just a little bit, Tano. Unless you want a three year old pointing and asking you 'What are those?' every two minutes at those markings that she doesn't have."

With an eyeroll, the huntress wraps the towel around her.

~+~+~+~+~+

In spite of herself, Ahsoka rises and bows to the powerful woman walking towards her with a tiny girl in her arms. Queen Breha takes in her lack of attire with an amused glance. She lets the wriggling little creature in her arms to the ground. The little girl runs over to Ahsoka and stares up at her in awe.

Breha looks at the young warrior with something unfathomable in her dark eyes. For every time that she had met Fulcrum, she was always drawn to thoughts of Padme' Amidala; a dear friend to both she and Bail. She shakes her head to send unbidden thoughts of pain and love away. Pain and love so much a part of this powerful young woman.

She walks over to Ahsoka and pulls her into her arms, holding her tightly. For an instant, the Queen of the Elder and Royal House of Alderaan allows a moment for her own grief and pain.

She releases Ahsoka. She smiles. "Good thing that this place is isolated and we finally gave up trying to give you a security detail. We would've lost many Peacekeepers to your charms, Ahsoka."

Ahsoka's lekku stripes flood with bright colors. Nola smirks at her over the Queen's shoulders. 

Fulcrum refrains from certain Mando gestures that she had been taught in her youth. 

She looks down at the tiny figure tugging gently on the hem of the towel.

Ahsoka sees the dark eyes looking up at her, the gaze even. She looks at Queen Breha. Something....

The warrior crouches down to the little girl's level. She remembers that this girl is royal. She hopes that she gets it right. She bows her head. "Your Highness," she says. "Little Queen, this is....," Breha says. She searches for a name for the warrior. Fulcrum saves her. "I'm 'Soka,"she says, giving a name that she lets few call her.

The little girl gives a brilliant smile. "I'm Leia," she says. She holds out her right hand. The warrior takes it in her own gingerly. As she does, a brief, microburst of a powerful spark resonates in her consciousness. She looks at the Queen with wide eyes. For a moment, there is a look of panic in Breha's eyes. Just for a moment.

Breha's countenance returns to its placid calm. Ahsoka nods and returns her gaze to the little girl. She smiles broadly, as she realizes that if she is not careful, this little beauty will have her wrapped around her tiny finger, just as the rest of Alderaan is.

"Were you swimming?" Leia asks. "Yes, your Highness," Ahsoka says.

"Momma says I can start lessons soon. Can I swim with you?"

"I would like that, little _themiar_ ," the warrior says. A confused look flows over that imperious face. "What's a _the...,them,?"_ the girl asks, tripped up on the word.

Ahsoka smiles. "It's a little mouse on my world," she says. "They're quite tasty." She suddenly raises the girl's top and brings her lips to the stomach. A paroxysm of giggling erupts, along with the noise of a raspberry.

When the giggling subsides, the little girl, without preamble, climbs into the warrior's lap. She pulls out a toy from her skirt and leans back against Ahsoka.

Breha's eyes tear as she looks at the two young women. Each powerful in their own way. One, whose future is uncertain, for what she does. She shakes the dark thoughts away. She enjoys the calmness that has come over the young warrior's face.

Even the cynical fixer is moved.

Breha takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

"I need your help with something, Ahsoka. A family matter, but one that may involve the Empire."

The warrior takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. 

~+~+~+~+~+

Breha takes her own deep breath. As she waits, Leia holds up her toy in two pieces to the young huntress. She gently takes the toy and works at it as if it was a puzzle until the two pieces are reunited.

As she is gathering herself, Breha smiles at the deft fingers of the warrior. Ahsoka places the toy in the girl's chubby fingers. She places a kiss on the top of the brown hair.

"My nephew, Dek, may be in trouble. We can't find him." Her lips curl in rising anger. "The Empire may have taken him."

Ahsoka sits up. She can see the pain in the Queen's eyes. She lets her continue. "He is young, but he is already a prominent geneticist," she says, a hint of pride in her voice. _More than a hint,_ Ahsoka thinks. "He has accepted a prominent position at the Polytechnic on Drall. Not many non-Drall are considered."

Her eyes grow sad. "Dek has broken with the rest of the family over the New Order," she says, giving the polite term for the Empire.

_If a murderous regime like Palpatine's Empire could be said to have a polite term._ Ahsoka grits her teeth gently. "He was under consideration for inclusion in a project for Imperial Weapons Development."

Ahsoka's arms tighten around Leia. "Weapons research and a geneticist. That sounds like fun for someone." Ahsoka feels the girl snuggle closer into her arms. She can feel the toddler's consciousness relax. Breha smiles. Nola makes as if she is going to snap a holo.

The warrior's eyes discourage her. With threats of dismemberment.

She turns her attention back to the Queen. "Why do you think that the Empire has him, Majesty?"

Breha takes a drink of water from Leia's sippy cup. Ahsoka fights the expression that this tiny action brings. "He left after some Imperial lackey came and interviewed him. His colleague said that the questions that the lackey asked him were very pointed and upset Dek. Upset him enough that he hasn't been seen in several weeks."

Breha's falls silent, as she sees the huntress' eyes look off into the distance. The brilliant blue eyes track back to the Queen's dark gaze. "What else did the colleague say?"

"Nothing too much more. There was a note in his request for a sabbatical about the Bonu-Delan system. We checked. There is not much there."

"I have to ask, my Queen. What does the Senator say about this?" Ahsoka asks.

"Don't know. Haven't mentioned it to him." Ahsoka's eyes narrow at the casual aside from the Royal. _Great. I am going to get in the middle of a damned marital dispute between my boss and his wife. I at least never had this problem in the Jedi. Well, not too much, at least. There was that time that I got caught in the middle between Padme' and Anakin. Wound up going to a Separatist world illegally._

She shoves the thoughts and memories aside. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, I don't work for you. I work for the Senator. I can't be going off without his sanction." She looks down. "Especially on something that might be construed as a personal, family matter."

Breha's eyes flash. Nola winces. Ahsoka ignores both. "My dear Fulcrum. May I remind you that, yes, while you may work for Bail, Bail works for me. As for the 'personal family matter,' I don't think you had a problem going off with the _Vod'e An_ movement. Without telling the Senator." Breha doesn't hesitate, either, at the fire from the Togruta's eyes. "That could be construed as a personal, family matter, if you really want to bring that up."

Ahsoka's eyes turn accusingly to Nola. The Naboo shrugs her shoulders with a _don't look at me, I didn't tell her._ look. The rebel agent's eyes still promise a conversation about that subject.

Ahsoka sighs. She gently tightens her grip on the little girl. The warmth of the toddler centers her. "Your Majesty, I will look into it and see what I can find. I don't know if I should go to another Core planet or not, however, without letting your husband know."

Nola and the Queen look at each other and nod. "Leave that to us. We will go to Drall. Bail is actually going to Corellia; I can perhaps tour some state-of-the-art medical facilities on Drall, while I am there."

Ahsoka starts to speak, but closes her mouth. _No use trying to convince her to stay out of it. At least Nola and her security detail will be there._

Queen Breha rises. Ahsoka effortlessly rises, even with the child in her arms. Breha smiles at her reluctance to hand the little girl over.

_Another one wrapped around her tiny fingers._

As she takes the girl from the warrior, she brings her palm to the white wing-marking on Ahsoka's cheek. She can see the troubled look in the warrior's eyes. She is fairly certain what that look is about.

Her own return look promises a conversation about that subject, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copikla - (Mando'a) cute.


	4. Aay'han

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young woman remembers her losses as she struggles to continue through the darkness. A second chance is earned as a Dragon considers a request from an old friend. A request to help watch the back of his paladin and Fulcrum.
> 
> Hope is reborn on many levels.

**Selonia**

The argument between the tiny Drall and the oversized Selonian increases in volume. The Deputy Constable taking the report tunes them out. She is busily drawing the diagram of the speeder accident, seemingly the picture of the professional CorSec officer.

Unless a bystander took a closer look at the diagram on the datapad and sees two stick figures, one large and furry, the other tiny and furry, with Xs on their eyes. Suspended from tiny, stick-figure gallows.

The officer sighs and closes her eyes. Her blank purple eyes look in disgust at herself on the speederbike mirror. She purses her lips and clears the report.

Both parties suddenly turn their ire on her. She ignores them. At one time, the officer would've used the gifts of her species to calm the situation.

The use of those gifts would entail feeling something herself.

Instead, she issues them both citations, ignoring their cries of _do you know who I am?_ and mounts the speederbike. As she pulls her helmet on, she tries to send the vision of a serene huntress looking at her away.

Looking at her with sadness in her eyes.

**Corellia**

Draq' Bel Iblis crosses the marbled hall. He grasps the hand of Bail Organa warmly. They move to embrace one another. "Well, Dragon, you haven't changed much. Still an old bastard."

"Would you have it any other way, Bail?" 

Organa smiles. "No. You are the one constant in an ever-changing universe." They turn and walk to a small anteroom. As he sits in front of the fireplace, its warm glow oscillating and crackling, Draq' hands him a snifter, already prepared.

"Thought you might want to try the newest twelve year old," Bel Iblis says, "We'll move to the old stuff as we see how this damned conclave goes."

Bail smirks. "If I hadn't known you for twenty years, I would call you a cheap bastard, as well as an old one. How are you doing, Draq'?"

Draq' smiles ruefully. "Making it. Still have a job, but don't know for how long."

Bail nods. "Are you the only one left from when the Meditative Contemplation was declared?" he asks, referring to the codicil of the Republic Constitution that had kept the Five Brothers out of the Clone War.

A codicil that had been repealed by the new Emperor by executive fiat.

Draq' sighs. "Yes. Merricope was forced out as Diktat, soon after. Most everybody in the Privy Council was replaced. I was kept on for 'consistency.' Fortunately, my ability and my place as Chairman of the Board of CEC has made me somewhat indispensable."

Bail strokes his beard thoughtfully. The Corellian Engineering Corporation, the private/public bulwark of the Corellian Sector economy, was one of the premier starship engineering and design concerns in the galaxy. One that special allowances had been made to keep them out of the Commerce Guilds and Corporate Alliance in order to keep their products for the Republic in the late war.

"So do you still have the intelligence operations of the Five Brothers?" he asks. Draq' smiles his 'Dragon' smile - the look that has helped keep him in power, as well as knowledge of where certain bodies are buried. "On paper. I still oversee the Rangers of CorSec. They are still our primary source of intelligence." His expression darkens. "The new Diktat forced me to make cuts to the Force. Rangers selected after a certain date had to be returned to standard CorSec duties. Cut our intelligence and security for Corellians outside of the system by about fifty percent."

Bail can see that Bel Iblis' mind is on one of those that he had to let go. "How is Dani?" the Alderaani asks gently. 

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her in nearly three years." His teeth clench. "The new Legate-Internal, in a move to poke me in the eye, transferred her to Selonia. The ass end of Selonia."

His face falls. "She decided to cut herself off from me. She has isolated herself; she told me in no uncertain terms that she...."

He stops. "One positive. The Legate-Internal pissed the wrong person off. I managed to get her replaced with someone who I respect more than most these days. Someone who actually has a sense of justice, rather than just power. He is going to see what he can do to get her back on the right track."

Organa raises his eyebrows. "Draq', she is her father's daughter. I know that I am one of the few outside of the family that knows that, but having met her, I know that she is more like you than even Garm."

The Dragon nods. "Hell, some of the family doesn't even know it." He looks at the Senator and Viceroy. He puts his snifter down and deliberately pushes a button on the side table. A muted hum sounds for a brief second. He nods to Organa.

Bail speaks first after the pause. "Speaking of Garm, he seems to be in danger of kriffing everything up that I am trying to build. Is there anything you can do about this pissing contest with Mon Mothma?"

Draq's expression grows fiery again. "Hell no. He seems to be thinking with his dick again. That is a Blackthorn trait, apparently. His wife is rabidly pro-Imperial. She has even been seen socializing quite closely with the Imperial Advisor to the Diktat. Aside from that, I don't know why he and Mothma split."

"Well, it is complicating things. Mon is my primary partner in a little enterprise that I am overseeing, along with some other Senators. The fact that we can't include the Five Brothers, one of the most powerful of the Core Systems has put a crimp in some of our plans."

"How big is this enterprise?" the Corellian asks. "Still very small," Bail says. "We are deliberately moving slowly."

He takes a sip of his brandy. He contemplates the fire for several moments. He starts to speak; closes his mouth.

Draq' Bel Iblis knows exactly what his old friend and colleague wants to say. He smiles and let him off of the hook. "Say what you need to, old friend. It will go no further, unless it is harmful to Corellia."

Bail looks up at him. "It may eventually be, Draq'. Or at least harmful to your family."

Bel Iblis, the most powerful man on Corellia smiles. "Tell me, Bail."

"I have an, uh..... a middle manager running this enterprise for me. She has been with me almost since the beginning. We've had some fits and starts in getting the enterprise running - hell, she disappeared for about six months, then came back with several new branches."

Draq' listens intently, his mind moving several light-years ahead. "She is very skilled, but also very young. In the last six months or so, I have selected a coordinator for her, to try and keep some of the bullshit off of her plate."

Draq' holds up his hand. "Come on, Viceroy. This room is secure. Stop speaking in metaphors. You're about to rupture something trying to keep the business references going."

Bail laughs easily. "You always cut right through the bullshit, Draq'. I can count on it."

"Fulcrum is skilled, committed, and powerful. She has been an excellent recruiter, and has built a helluva network. But she needs someone to watch her back. Or at least her flanks. Nola Vorrserrie, whom you've met, works well as her handler and contact. But I think she needs a specific type of backup. Skilled security. Of course," he says with a grin, "she would be highly pissed at me for suggesting it."

"Naturally," Draq' says, "what do you need from me?"

"I think that you might be able to solve a couple of issues for me. One, you can bring Corellia back into the fold. Garm, I know has his own network, but we don't trust him. We need one that we can work with. You, if you are willing, can provide a voice that even Mon will listen to."

Draq' listens, his eyes betraying nothing. "Secondly," the Alderaani says, "maybe you can use your skills to find someone to back Fulcrum up. Preferably someone to be the storm to shield her."

_Interesting choice of words, there, sport,_ the Dragon thinks. A memory stirs. An intelligence report with a two-word reference from Mandalore. He smiles. The smile is one of a mythical creature.

He nods to Bail. "I think I have a few ideas about that," he says. Bail nods. "Are you sure, Draq'? I had heard rumors that you were going to retire."

"Nah," the man known as the Dragon says. "I'd be bored shitless in retirement." He stands. The two men fall into an embrace. "I'll be in touch, Bail. Give my love to Breha and that little sweetie of yours."

"I will, Draq'." He looks at the older man. "Draq', I know that you have been a father longer than me, but don't let things go on too long with Dani. Life is too short. Especially these days." Draq' looks at the hardwood floor. When he looks up, the aristocrat sees many things flashing through the old man's eyes.

"If some of these ideas pan out, that may take care of itself, Bail. These ideas might help both of us." A hard look steels his eyes. "As well as our worlds."

Draq' Bel Iblis is thoughtful after Organa leaves. He gets up and brings his hands together. He calls for his assistant. A holoprojection of an office droid plays on his comm. "You bellowed, your Dragon-ness?" the droid snarks. Draq' doesn't rise. "Get me Shav Colum. And get me a ship for Selonia."

"It is what I live for." For the first time since a very dark night in the galaxy, Draq's heart rises with anticipation. Anticipation of perhaps seeing a spark again in a pair of purple eyes.

Anticipation that there might be hope for his world.

**Selonia**

The Deputy pulls the cuffed human before the desk Constable. Her beautiful crimson face is expressionless as she listens to the curses emanating from the naked man in front of the desk. 

"Hello, Dani. What have we here?" her supervisor asks. "Public indecency. Drunk in public. Resisting arrest. Possession of a very tiny weapon." she says.

The Constable nods at the young officer, her own eyes sad at the listless response. The drunk looks up at the senior officer. "You like what you see, babe?" he says, waggling his eyebrows.

There is a yelp as his head richochets against the high desk. A light slap delivered to back of his head is the propellant. "Hey, you frigid bitch. I want my advocate."

Something dangerous flows into the Deputy's eyes. Constable Kris Tome motions to two other officers. "Come on, loverboy. Time to sleep it off," one of them says. Dani Faygan's eyes watch them as they lead him away. 

Tome sighs at the lack of life in the young woman's eyes. "Dani, what the hell is it with you?" she says softly. "Do you want to get fired?" 

Dani says nothing. "I have gone out on a limb for you, this last time. You have to give me something. You know that the Super has it in for you."

Tome is struck by the pain that flows into the officer's eyes. Just for a moment. Then the life flows out. She sighs. "Well, it is a moot point." She holds up a datapad. "I can't have you on the road anymore, Dani. Your physical just came back."

Dani looks at her steadily. "You failed your physical. Toxins have built up in your body. They're affecting your lungs. You barely passed your agility test last time."

Tome steels herself at the sadness. The lifelessness. "This was all preventable. All you had to do was get out of that goddamned little apartment you live in. Or out of those classrooms." She forges forward. "Or even just responding to some of those invitations for drinks from us."

"I don't know much about Zeltrons. I know there is more to you than just getting laid. You have to have contact. Connections. You have to be able to help people, to connect with them, or you will kill yourself."

Tome smiles gently, "Of course, there were any number of boys and girls on any of the shifts who would've scratched any itch you asked them to. You pushed us all away, sweetie. "

The Constable's eyes harden. "As of now, you are not even on weenie-wagger detail. You are on a desk pending a medical workup. And no, those damned herbal supplements from Zeltros that you have been popping are not enough to get you back on the line."

"Plus, you need to go see the Super. There is more." 

For the first time, Dani shows life. Life in the form of an eyeroll. "Let me guess, the asshole I just arrested is one of his Ensterite buddies. Or his nephew," she says.

"Don't think so. Whatever it is has drawn the attention of the new Legate-Internal. He is in there." Tome smiles sadly. "One thing I have learned about you, since you have worked for me, is you don't do anything half-assed, sweetie." Tome motions to Dani to follow her. As they walk into the corridor outside her destiny, Tome pulls the young woman into an embrace. For just a moment, she feels the spark of the officer's emotions. "Thanks, Boss," the young Deputy says. "For everything."

As the young woman walks into the office, Kris Tome can feel the power of that spark. She smiles.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani's shoulders are squared as she prepares to fight. For the first time in nearly three years, she prepares. She pulls up short. Instead of the fanatical, watery gaze of the station Superintendent, a pair of powerful eyes looks out at her from a strong, intelligent visage. A visage, except for its skin tone, that reminds her of someone else. 

The new Legate-Internal of the Five Brothers; the chief law enforcement officer and Advocate for the system looks at her with concerned eyes.

From behind the Super's desk. He looks down at another datapad. Her fate listed among the bright lights of a computer screen. She comes to attention. Something she had only grudgingly done for the previous occupant of this office.

A smile briefly splits his dark features. Dani doesn't know Shavuot Colum very well, but she knows that her former boss had recommended him for his current job. 

She knows that the Dragon had followed his career with interest. He nods to the chair in front of the desk. "Sit down before you fall down, Faygan," he says in a deep, controlled voice. His eyes narrow as she contemplates remaining on her feet, just to prove that she can.

She sits. "I've been reviewing your file. I've been doing it for all of the disciplinary actions in the last few years. There are some irregularities in your case."

Dani raises her eyebrow, but says nothing. "Like the fact that there were witness statements of officers who testified on your behalf in each of your three demotions, that never made it into the file."

A smile that does credit to a certain reptilian mentor flows onto his features under the neatly trimmed mustache. "Most egregious of these irregularities is that there doesn't seem to be a record of decision from the previous Legate in the file."

The other eyebrow joins its companion in the hairline of the young woman. _Funny, I have the signed copies of the ROD in my 'fresher at home. In case I ran out of certain supplies._

Colum is silent as he lets his words sink in. She pushes forward. "So, what does this mean, Legate?"

He opens a desk drawer. It is then that she realizes that the desk and the walls of the office are bare. Where there had been numerous examples of 'I love me' syndrome in the office, there is only blank space. Colum places two metal items on the desk. "It means that you are out of uniform, Inspector."

She looks down at the items. One, a gold shield, in the triangular shape of an ancient Corellian weapon, one that predates even slugthrowers, with the stylized representation of the Five Brothers in silver in the center. One very different in shape and color of the plain star that she now wears.

The other, a rank plaque; a gold bar with a single silver star in the middle.

Shavuot Colum suddenly feels his heart constrict with a flurry of emotions. Pain, joy, laughter, grief, and love flash through his consciousness. Emotions that don't generally affect his politician's, cop's, and lawyer's heart all at once. Never from someone else. 

He is witness to something powerful, as he watches the young Zeltron's eyes shift from dull purple to black in the space of one second. He takes a deep breath as he attempts to deal with the reinvigorated emotional resonance. 

He smirks as he sees the young officer close her eyes and wrests control of the resonance. She comes to attention again as the emotions calm. _Come on, Daaineran. It's just a goddamned job._

In her mind, she hears a musical accent. _It is your life and your life's work, my heart. Never underestimate what you do and how it affects those around you._

She looks at Colum. He is looking at her with an amused expression on his face, as he fights for his own control from the resonance. _Good thing that nobody has actually struck my fancy today, or this could be a different conversation_ , she thinks.

Dani sees the Legate grow serious again. "You just might survive, Daaineran," he says, "but until you pass a physical and ace your PEB, like you always have, I can't risk you being in the field. Effective immediately, you are assigned to Corellia in an administrative capacity."

He sees the eyes morph into the dark spectrum again. He holds up his hands. "Before you start getting me pissed off, from your overflow, I think that I will let your new boss explain your role." 

The Legate-Internal of Corellia stands. "Get the hell out of here. You're keeping your new Guv waiting. I need to figure out a new station Super for this place, seeing how you have managed to force this one to explore his dreams of retail security."

Dani is barely able to salute and turn smartly on her heels. As she walks out she sees Kris Tome and several other officers, a mixture of Selonian, Drall, and human. The Constable is standing in front of the charge desk. She walks over to Dani. A look passes between them as the older woman touches the silver star-shaped shield on Dani's chest. She removes it from the young officer's tunic. Another deputy removes the rank insignia from the opposite side. She recognizes one of the few other deputies in this place who had tried to save her. To save her by giving her those connections. Connections that she had, in her grief and pain, rebuffed. 

The ones, like Tome, who she had commanded when she first was transferred here.

Two other deputies each gently take the new shield and rank plaque from her hands. Her eyes tear as they attach the devices to her tunic. Tome smiles. Her hand and the hands of the other deputies touch the sides of their berets.

She smiles as she returns the gesture. As she drops her hand; a familiar warm feeling intrudes into her resonance. A feeling of home; of family; of power; but most of all the love of a father.

She turns. Draq' Bel Iblis stands near the door of the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aay'han - (Mando'a) the bittersweet moment between joy and mourning. Remembrance.


	5. Mirshmure'cya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words are spoken. Some of them are quite painful. An understanding is reached.

**Takodana**

Croft sits in the pilot's chair of the tiny freighter. His expression is dark as he runs through the preflight checklist. He stops as he thinks of Rex; of the betrayal that the clone might feel. _Not like he hasn't been betrayed by Jedi, before. He should be used to it by now._

He shakes his head as he thinks of Rex's face when he told him that he couldn't help him. The hurt and the betrayal in those all-too-familiar eyes.

The eyes of his brothers. The eyes of one, in particular, to whom he owed so many things. A huge, fierce member of that small class known as Null-ARCs. Croft's lips lift in a slight smile. An example of his _Vod'e_ who looked out at him with a slightly different set of features than the others.

One who looked at him with hatred and contempt at first. But whose looks grew from respect to regard. To the love of a brother. To the protection of one that extended to Croft's own Jedi family. His Master. His hunt-sister. He smiles as he thinks of the looks that this huge violent man had given another Jedi. Croft's sister Padawan. Of the looks of tenderness and protection.

The look of love for one that he shared a terrible secret with; courtesy of the Republic - later the Empire. The ex-Jedi's eyes tear as he thinks of the last time that he had seen Drop. On a landing platform of the Jedi Temple. After paying respects to another of their dead. A young naval officer who had given her life to save who she thought was the symbol of the Republic.

Sheev Palapatine. The man responsible for the deaths of millions. Or at least the deaths of Croft's and his family's way of life.

Drop had told him that there was a child out there. A child that his love was even then on her way to Corellia to find. A child formed of a horrifying theft of that Jedi's and that clone's lives. A twisted experiment.

One that he was sure that Drop and Jedi Elle Jaquindo would love and shape into a loving, powerfully compassionate being.

Croft clenches his teeth. _If they had a fucking chance to._

The man who was once Taliesin Croft, known by a host of names and epithets shakes his head at those memories. Another rises to the forefront of his mind. A clone survivor with a hint of bafflement always on his features.

A hint given to him by many blows to the head. Blows that had never affected his loyalty or his love. The tears flow unbidden down the face of a man now known only by a nickname.

He sees in a fuzzy mind's eye that baffled clone tenderly lifting a slight figure in _beskar'gam_ , in his arms. A figure with laughter in her eyes, now stilled. A figure with a bulging belly with the promise of new life.

A promise now spent.

He sees the baffled clone's eyes filled with tears and tenderness gently lying the slight figure down in a bunk, as they prepared to leave that place where the ex-Jedi's life ended in a flurry of blaster fire.

The bunk in which that new life had probably been started.

The man now known only as King, a nickname given to him by the family of that slight figure, curses. _The old woman is right. She and all the others didn't just exist to haunt you. They lived. Now it is time for you to live, useless,_ he thinks.

A crooked smile quirks his lips. _Maybe after the next horrific devastating death in your life, you might be able to figure this out without someone dear to you having to spend a lot of time and energy kicking you in the ass. Without the threats to your liver and various social diseases. As well as the uncontrollable, suicidal recklessness._ In spite of his pain, the product of two reckless worlds laughs gently at the last thought. _Well, maybe that part is in your nature. Just a matter of degrees, as well as actual thought._

His green eyes look at the horizon of the lush green world, as he thinks of his purpose. A purpose of rescuing a brother, without having to endanger even one of his other _Vod'e_

The man's smile grows dangerous. _I'm coming, Gregor'ika. Hold on._

~+~+~+~+~+

Rex stalks into Maz's office. Her eyes widen at the intrusion; something that no one has ever dared. Her eyes soften as she sees his face. She places the blaster on the table. Rex draws up short, as he realizes his gaff. He inclines his head. "Apologies, Mistress," he says, "I am pressed for time. I was wondering if you might know where your cook is?"

Maz quirks her mouth into a smile. "The omelet was that good, huh, child?" Rex's eyebrow raises. _Been a while since I was called a 'child' by anyone._ He takes a long look at the tiny orange being. A being who gives off that same aura of agelessness that Yoda did. He closes his eyes for a moment at the memory. _The same bit of knowledge of how the universe works._

He grins. "Not bad. Once I finally got it. Once your cook got through with his Imperial entanglement." His face darkens. "Hope he washed his hands." Rex sees the woman's face grow sad. They share a look. "Are you truly here to lodge a complaint, or do you truly need him?"

Rex's eyes bore into the old woman. The pirate queen doesn't flinch. "Need may be a strong word, but I could use his help." He looks down at the scuffed stone floor; examines the otherworldly pattern of the ancient rugs. Maz gets up and walks over to him. "You think he can be saved, don't you?"

"I don't know if I care anymore," the soldier says. "I was born to save him and his kind. But after what I saw happen to my brothers...." He trails off. He looks out of the open window at the bright sunlight.

Maz beckons to him. She walks over and stands on her stool. After a moment, Rex sighs and follows her. She lowers her goggles and places her hands on the sides of his face. Her deep gaze examines, analyzes, and sees. Rex feels as if something else is at work during the examination. She finally smiles at him. "Your words say one thing, child, but I see your eyes. In spite of your disgust for the Jedi, I see that you would die for them. At least some of them."

She continues to hold his face. He looks down from her intense gaze. The old pirate and bar owner forges ahead. "There is someone that you both know. That I see in you and King's aura. A young woman. A huntress."

Rex's eyes widen. She smiles. "Both in different ways, do you care for her. For you, a loyal soldier and friend. You as a teacher. A comrade." The smile grows sad. "For him; a fellow hunter. He is a teacher as well, but something more. Something that they both grew into. Something she may have been running from when you and she came together again." She sees his anger grow. "No, Captain. Nothing painful. Just unfamiliar." He calms. His eyes and lips quirk into a slight smile. "Are you a Jedi, Maz?"

She shakes her head. "No. I am no Jedi, but I do know the Force." The phrase echoes across the ages. "I know that for both of you to heal; you will need to come to terms with her possible fate. I think that you can help each other. You will need to recognize your shared affection and regard for this young woman."

He nods absently. His eyes are on a burning world, watching this young woman stick two relics of her life into the ground before a deception.

"Where is he?" Rex asks bluntly. Maz smiles; a gesture that starts in her huge eyes behind the goggles. "He is trying to live. He is going after that purpose that you came here seeking him for."

They both look towards the window as the sound of an engine starting cuts through the morning. Rex sighs and slumps. "Guess I am a step behind." He sees the pirate's huge grin.

"What?"

She opens a drawer and pulls out a small device. "This is still my world, _Vod,_ Nothing happens without my consent." She pushes a button on the device. They smile as they hear the engine noise die.

Both of them can almost hear the cursing from the cockpit. Or at least imagine it. The old woman grasps his hips. She turns him around and slaps the trooper on the ass. "Go, Captain. Go find your Jedi for-the-moment. Even though he will deny it." She smirks. "Hope you've got a ship. That one will be down for awhile." Her smirk deepens, almost to a level and skill that a young huntress had achieved. "Perhaps the beautiful refugee from that Pantoran twit that I saw you with?"

He shakes his head as he turns and exits her office. He is struck by the fact that he had never given his rank or his name. For the first time in a long time, Captain Rex feels his emotions rise with a purpose.

But first, he owes the ex-Jedi something. Some physical pain.

Maz smiles as she watches him leave. She closes her eyes, as her mind goes back in time a year and a half ago. Of a beautiful, powerful huntress standing on the shore of a lake; rescued lightsabers in her hands in endless lightsaber forms. Then replaced by two white blades of her own manufacture.

Her smile turns wistful as she thinks of the two wounded men who fought by her side and would die for her. For the millionth time since Taliesin Croft had come here, she debates about telling him. Telling him that she is alive and powerful and fighting the same fight against darkness that he had. Of now telling her best friend. Her comrade who had come to this world seeking the other to help save one of his dwindling numbers of brothers.

Each time, her mind and the Force says, _no, I have something else in mind for them. For all of them. A little while longer._

Each time, she heeds the Force. But a tiny part of her heart wonders if it would really skew the Force's plans if she let them know each was alive. So that they could fall into each other with the hunger and light. To heal and to fight.

Or for their brother to know that the person that he had fought with for so long had survived. Had survived as a testament to his skill in watching her back. That two of his Jedi had survived the betrayal by his brothers. Brothers who had no control over their actions.

She bides her time. She listens to the Force.

~+~+~+~+~+

An ex-Jedi stalks out of the newly-useless small freighter. His fist pounds the hull; serving only to make him shake his hand in pain. He realizes that he has an audience.

The clone stands a few feet away. They stare at one another. "So you thought that you would run away again, Croft." The Corellian's eyes narrow, but he says nothing. "Seems to be what you are good at, lately."

"Yeah, well, when you are betrayed by millions of people that you trusted your life with, you tend to learn those skills. Especially when you are about to get stabbed or shot in the back." A memory stirs of a blue lightsaber blade growing out of the chest of his hunt-mother and Master. Her own blade, wielded by a young clone - one of millions that she looked upon as her children.

A blade that rests in an equipment bag in this ship. Along with the blade of a student.

Rex's face grows dangerous. His eyes flash fire as his teeth clench. "Yeah. You Jedi might know something about betrayal. Seeing how you created an entire race to be killed for your war."

Neither of them seem to know what each are saying as their anger grows. The recriminations fly as they stalk closer to one another. Words like 'slave' and 'genocide' are thrown at each other.

Most of the other denizens of this landing field stay the hell away from them as both of their anger grows. One is uncontrolled, as there are only consequences of violence for their anger.

The other has an edge of control to it, as there are once again greater consequences for his own anger. Consequences of darkness. Of his soul.

"I am trying like hell to figure out what Ahsoka Tano saw in an asshole like you, Croft," Rex says as the subject moves on from Jedi and clone sins. "Why she thought so highly of you. You care nothing but for yourself, as far as I can see."

As soon as Rex says it; he feels as if he has overstepped. He sees the pain and grief grow in Croft's green eyes.

Of course, being himself, he doesn't back down. "I stood there on Z'ambique, watching both of you. She worshipped you. She told me what you meant to her. What you had taught her about being a Jedi. How you prepared her to be the incredible Padawan that she was for my General."

He steels himself. "I realize after seeing you now, that you had her fooled. The man that she thought you were is really nothing more than a coward. A man willing to lay down rather than stand up for her memory. For the memory of his brothers."

Croft starts towards him. He stops; unclenches his fists. They both stare at one another. "You mean the memory of my brothers who didn't slaughter my family. Including that young woman whose memory that you toss around at me. The young woman who meant more to me than any other Jedi. Especially after she had the courage to leave. Something that I didn't have until it was too late." His voice chokes as he turns away.

Rex stares at him as something in the ex-Jedi's voice trips a sensation. Raw pain and emotion; but something else.

He does not have to be a Jedi or have a connection to the Force to recognize something more in the _be'jetti'jorad_. Something more than the respect and regard that two Jedi might show each other. Just as the old woman had implied.

Something falls into place. His Commander's _no, his General's_ slight distraction in the beginning of Mandalore. During quiet moments of respite. Her mind far away. Her voice and eyes with the exact same sound and look as this man's. Even when they remembered Z'ambique and something Croft and she had done.

Rex nods to himself. It all falls into place. The changed place in each other's lives.

He is about to say something, when a musical accent interrupts.

"Would the two of you like for me to measure? I don't even need a measuring device, seeing how I have held both of your cocks in my hand at one time or another."

Croft turns at the voice. Emotions of a different sort cross his face. Regret and shame, as he stares at the woman standing near another small freighter.

A slight smile plays over her purple features; a smile that moves into her single eye. His heart wrenches again at the patch covering her right eye. An eye destroyed rescuing him; in an attempt to rescue his Master. An attempt that also took her beloved twin from her. He sees the face of a tall, blue skinned Twi'lek looking at his smaller sister's with a fond smile.

They rush towards each other. He pulls her into an embrace. She moves her head back and looks into his eyes. Her hands draw his face towards hers as they kiss.

He doesn't see Rex's eyes grow thunderous again. Then laugh as she pushes the Corellian away. Thyla Secura's left fist crashes into the right side of Croft's jaw. "This is for Lassa and the pain that you have caused her, you useless son of a bitch. All the sleepless nights that she has endured since you left, worrying if you had managed to kill yourself or not."

Rex's smile is broad. _Maybe I will double her fee for this trip._

~+~+~+~+~+

Thyla collapses on Rex's chest. Their lips meld as their breathing slows. The pilot touches the side of his face tenderly, her fingers caressing the tiny scar on his forehead; through his close-cropped blond hair.

They turn on their sides; their arms around each other. Her lekku twitch and move in contentment. A smirk flows over his face. "So whose is bigger?"

He yelps as her knee moves to the subject of the inquiry. "You both could stand some enhancements, lad, to keep a girl's attention," she says. Their easy laughter splits the ship's air. Rex grows serious. "So when did you and Croft....?" He holds his hand up in a peacemaking gesture, as he sees her eyes flash. "No worries, Thy. You are here with me, now."

"When he was on the ship. Lassa had kicked him out of her bed after an argument. He found his way to ours."

His eyebrow raises at the pronoun. He doesn't ask who the other part of the 'ours' was. "This was before Ahsoka joined the ship."

She feels him tense. He sits up. She pulls him back down. "Shh, Rex." She looks down. A wistful smile comes over her face. "It was nothing untoward on his part. All of us saw how they both looked at one another. They both kind of fell into it, together." The smile turns into a smirk. "Of course, it took Lassa shoving both of them at one another for it to happen. She said that she had never seen two more self-sacrificing, stubborn idiots in her life."

Rex laughs ruefully. "You find that as the definition of 'Jedi' in the dictionary."

He looks down. "I guess I will refrain from killing him, for now." Thyla kisses his forehead. "Are you okay, Rex? Are you angry at him for that?"

He is silent as he searches his emotions. "I don't guess so. Not for that, at least. Before," he closes his eyes as he can't bring himself to say the words, "we separated on Mandalore; really before we were actually into the fiercest fighting, I saw her. I caught her smiling; her eyes on the horizon. I know now that he might have been some of that spark."

His eyes tear. "I don't know if she is alive or not. But I do know that after all that she went through, he might have been the one bright spot for her. That and being in the fight again. With her brothers and her Master."

He doesn't see the young Twi'lek look away. A smile of secret knowledge on her face. Of a young huntress sitting in a bar as Lassa Rhayme and several of her crew back her up.

At least a year and a half after the death of the Jedi.

To keep from revealing anything to the man, she distracts him by kissing her way to his center. Light blossoms in his head as her wet warmth engulfs him.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft looks up as his 'shipmates' walk into the cockpit. Thyla smiles an unfathomable smile as she taps him on the shoulder to relieve him. He stands and turns to the Captain. He meets the golden gaze evenly. "Croft, you may have made her life pretty joyful before Order 66, but there is something I need to say." There is no question of the 'her.'

"I watched her back for over two years. She made our lives so bright and joyful; just treating us with respect. A lot of that was already there," He smiles as he sees the Corellian nod in agreement. "or her Master. But I think some of it was your influence."

Croft's expression is unreadable. "But as someone who watched her back, I feel like I need to do something. It is a little late, but necessary," Rex continues.

Croft moves about a half-second before the swing, but it still connects with the left side of his jaw.

Exactly opposite the bruise from Thyla. The Corellian's head bounces off of the bulkhead. He slides down the wall.

Rex reaches down and lifts Croft up. The young ex-Jedi rubs his jaw. "I probably deserved that. Maybe not for what you intended it for, but I deserved it."

His green eyes meet Rex's gold ones. "But it won't stop me from doing this."

There is a gasp from Thyla, as a very hard Corellian forehead connects with Rex's nose. Blood flows from the clone's hawk-like nose, but there is no further cosmetic damage.

More than there already was.

A very powerful eyeroll and head-shake issues from the only one who is not bruised or bleeding. A beatific smile flows across Thyla's face as she considers the move from the two warriors' shared and imprinted heritage. The classic 'Keldabe Kiss.'

She walks over to both and pulls them towards her. She holds them both tightly. "My beautiful hard-heads," she says in her light, musical Ryloth accent. "How lucky can a girl be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirshmure'cya - (Mando'a) head-butt; the Keldabe Kiss. (A smack in the face)


	6. Buurenaar alor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young spy connects to live after she is given her marching orders as the hope of a world. A Fulcrum and a fixer go where they are needed.
> 
> In the past, an former Paladin graduates under a hard teacher. A long lost connection to his birthright is reforged,

**Selonia**

A Dragon sits next to his daughter on a park bench. A daughter that he has never acknowledged, even to her. A Dragon makes powerful, violent enemies. Enemies that he had found easier to combat when they didn't know his vulnerabilities.

A vulnerability that he feels in his heart every time he looks at her laughing purple eyes.

Daaineran Faygan, recently restored Inspector in the Corellian Security Service, knows that she is not exactly presenting a professional appearance in her uniform as she clings tightly to his arm and rests her head on his shoulder.

She does not care. Even though she is not acknowledged, except in his heart, she knows their relationship. She has chosen to allow him to maintain the facade. To think that he is keeping her safe.

Dani tries not to dampen his coat's shoulder. She doesn't succeed. Draq' Bel Iblis smiles. 

He shakes his head. "Dani, I guess I need to give you your marching orders," he says gently.

She lifts her head from his shoulder and turns to face him. "Thanks, Dragon. For everything." Her obsidian eyes transition back to their usual purple. "What do you need me to do, Procurator?" she asks. 

"I need you to be the hope of our world, for a time, Dani." Her dark eyebrows rise. "Oh, just that. I thought it was going to be something hard," she says impudently. "How? More importantly, why me?"

"I can't add Rangers without getting some to leave. So, I am resurrecting Covenant House as the actual intelligence gathering apparatus, not just as a training and testing ground for certain, ah, specialties for our security forces."

_Spies, thugs, slicers, and courtesans, you mean._

She smiles as she thinks of some of the products of that House. Two young boys who didn't last long; as other abilities required them to leave. Abilities that a now defunct-Order prized. A close relationship with a mystical energy field. Abilities that the House could not develop.

Her smile grows as she looks at the graduate sitting next to her. An unwanted orphan who is at the pinnacle of power in the Corellian sector. A master spy, who has lived for Corellia since he was two years old. For Corellia and its Elder Family. The last in honor of a beautiful woman whose heart he had captured forty years ago.

A home that saves unwanted children such as Draq Bel Iblis and molds the ones who qualify and volunteer to protect their world. 

"You will be the Director, Dani. That way it doesn't matter if you pass your physical or PEB. It is an administrative position." His eyes narrow. "You will pass them, anyway, Daaineran."

She smiles. _Oh how I have missed the threats._ Threats accompanied by a squeeze of her hand.

She grows serious. "Well, that answers the first. But what about the most important question. Why me?"

"Because I need someone that I can trust, Inspector. Plus, you succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams in our little unofficial understanding with the Jedi. You and Taliesin saved many lives - here and in the Republic."

Dani's eyes tear as she thinks of her partner in this 'understanding.' A young man most likely dead. Just as her heart bond is. Draq' notices the tears. He takes her other hand in his. "Dani, this will be the biggest leap of faith for you."

Her eyes widen. "What, Draq'?"

He takes a deep breath. "I think that Taliesin is still alive." He sees the shock in her eyes. "I need you to find the Covenant of Corellia, Dani. The Protector of our World."

He smiles sadly; his own eyes tearing. "You both are the hope of our the Five Brothers."

**The Outer Rim**

Dav Kolan stumbles towards consciousness. His head splits in two as he tries to lift it. He slumps back on the dingy mattress. He opens his eyes. The dim light of the transport adds to his pain. He takes inventory of his body. Several body parts are more noticeable than others. He glances to his left. He curses as he sees the object laying on his trousers, next to his head. 

The rank insignia from his flight jacket. Complete with his ISB code cylinder. He breathes out. If he had lost that....

He would only be able to request to stand or kneel when a stormtrooper put a blaster bolt in his head.

His eyes widen as he realizes that the jacket is gone. _I liked that jacket,_ he thinks, ruefully. The last connection to a former life.

Kolan closes his eyes as he tries to remember the last two days. The two days that his comm says he last was conscious. He is conscious of images. Images of light. Of tastes and of sounds. Of touches. An image of a brown jug comes into his head. One that may be responsible for his lack of clarity.

He opens the bag sitting near him. He brings out a datapad, as well as his small blaster. He quickly dresses in his remaining clothes and holsters the blaster. He punches the datapad up. He looks at the record that pops up.

A hologram of a clean cut face. A young face with fair to dark hair. A pair of green eyes and a hint of a sarcastic grin. The young man wears a gray uniform tunic. He sees the name.

_Covenant, Bryne_

Inspector of Corellian Security.

The year of birth mirrors his own. The date of an undercover assignment seven years or so in the past. Deep cover. Kolan's eye grow pensive as he compares holo to the man he had met on the pirate world. A young man with pain and loss etched into his face and his fully gray hair.

Kolan smiles. His next asset, with any luck. 

_For Order,_ he thinks.

His eyes grow troubled as he thinks of what he had seen during his meeting with the science geek, Krennic. Of the pain in the clonetrooper's eyes.

Dav Kolan shakes his head, trying to send the images away. The images mingled with those of the loyal clone pilots under his command during the last war. Their deaths unmourned except by he and a few other officers. And the Jedi. His mind focuses on two young women. Beautiful women, each with their own demons, who tried their damndest to make the clones under their command feel alive and important.

Young women, a Togruta and a Mirialan whose tears ran freely down their cheeks when their pilots and troopers died. He tries to reconcile those young women with the traitorous, monstrous Jedi who had tried to kill the Emperor.

He hopes that they are both dead. He does not want to be the one who has to destroy that beauty and that love.

Dav Kolan, loyal agent of the Empire; tries to reconcile what he saw in that sterile chamber with what those subjects had been to him.

Loyal troopers. Loyal soldiers. 

Kolan curses as he returns his attention to the dossier on the datapad. 

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan stands before a plain door. She pulls her hand back from the door before she knocks. She thinks of Draq's last words before sending her off with a kiss on her cheek. _You need to let yourself live. Even before she died, Shaak knew that your species needed connection. She knew that you would always return to your heart. To your heart-bond. To her._ Dani was shocked at the tears in his piercing eyes. _Shaak Ti would never want you to kill yourself mourning her. She would want you to live. Those who love you want you to live; to find the connections that will let that powerful heart thrive._

The Dragon of Corellia had looked her in the eye before letting her go. "I don't want to see you on Corellia until tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. That gives you about twelve hours to find some light. Some comfort." He rolls his eyes. "Never thought I would be telling a junior officer to go get laid." _Much less my own daughter._

A simple riposte that brings the young officer to this door. She knocks.

After a moment, the door opens. Kris Tome stands there, her eyebrow raised. She is clad in a tank top and shorts. 

Dani looks down at Tome's bare feet. The Constable is wearing bright pink nail polish. She can feel her breathing increase as she hasn't in a long time as her gaze tracks up the officer's legs. Dani smiles crookedly and holds up bags of spicy Alderaani takeout. "Since I don't work for you anymore and you don't work for me, I was just wondering if the boys and girls that you said would've gladly scratched any itch of mine included you."

The officer runs her hand through her short auburn hair. Her dark eyes look at Dani with an unreadable expression. "Well, you might double your chances with me, at least," she says drily. "You sure you want to spend time with an old bag like me?" she asks cautiously.

"Really, Tome? Considering you are maybe seven years older than I am, I think I can handle you."

She notices that Tome's breathing has increased, as well, as she steps in. _Yep. The resonance seems to be working fine._ The Constable watches Dani's eyes shift to the black as her emotions swell. Dani steps into the small room. She runs her hands over the officer's strong bare arms. As she reaches out to kiss Tome, Dani senses something in the far reaches of her mind. Of the link that she had shared. A serene countenance looking down at her.

A beloved face that is smiling. The beautiful accent echoes through her consciousness. 

_Live, my heart. Live, again._

The take out lies forlorn and abandoned on the kitchen table.

**Alderaan**

Ahsoka Tano runs the final preflight on her Y-Wing. She turns and Smirks at Nola Vorserrie's tall frame crammed into the rear turret. _It's her own fault. She could've gone with Breha as planned, but she needed to come along._ The young huntress smiles, as she hears cursing over the intercom. "Hey, Princess, watch your language. Arseven has delicate auditory sensors."

A raspberry from behind Nola sounds. _[Yeah, right Snips. If I did, they would've burned out within two hours of listening to some of the words coming out of your piehole.]_

Nola laughs as she reads the translation on her heads-up display. "You know, Tano, we could take a nice comfortable freighter to the Rim. Rather than this rustbucket. One with an actual 'fresher rather than a condiment jar."

"It's not so bad, No-no. Just try not to think of waterfalls. Or running faucets."

"Great. Thanks, Tano. Appreciate the support."

"Anytime, Fixer. Anytime."

Nola Vorserrie stops trying to find a comfortable configuration for her nearly 1.9 meters in the turret. Her heart rises as the old bomber does. _I wouldn't have it any other way, Fulcrum._ Her face darkens and her eyes tear briefly. _This way, I know you are alive._

She shakes the thoughts away. "You know, if I get stuck in this damned turret, you are the one who is going to have to get me out."

"It's okay. Brought plenty of lube."

 _Dammit, who the hell does she think she is, getting the last word?_ the Naboo thinks as she chokes.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan wakes gently. She smiles at the face resting in the crook of her arm. The officer's light breath tickles the skin of her breast.

She feels the warmth and energy of a reinvigorated connection to her empathic resonance. Tome's emotions from the last few hours - the pleasure and joy had helped with that warmth. As well as her own.

But that was not what had awakened her. Her mind reels with what Draq' had told her. The idea of a half-Zeltron bastard running the Five Brothers' intelligence apparatus at age twenty-eight gives her pause. _Especially as it would give members of that Elder Family that Draq' safeguards, more than pause._ Her lips curl in anger as she thinks of the Ensterites among them. That narrow sect who do not accept outsiders - even those Corellians from outside of their own enclaves, not to mention any non-human half-breeds that pollute the purity.

Especially in the time of an Empire who does not appreciate the talents of non-humans.

The thoughts lead her to the Hag. Mailyn Blackthorn. The mother of two sons of the previous Elector. The stepmother of that Covenant that she has been tasked with finding. The woman perhaps guilty of the murder of the previous Elector and his new wife, and the attempted murder of their infant son.

An infant who survived and thrived as the man who had made her heart-bond swell with pride as his mentor and Master. A powerful warrior and peacekeeper who had made hers swell with his own comfort and care. A man who had made her smile while she watched the realization of a new kind of bond with a young huntress. A powerful young warrior in her own right who had shown up on an Outer Rim pirate ship. A man she is now tasked with finding amidst the ashes of the Jedi. Her eyes darken with sadness. Ashes that most likely include those of that young huntress.

She smiles at her new responsibility. Of the motto of that ancient house of protection. _Let justice be done for the Five Brothers; though the heavens may fall._

Her smile fades. _Those heavens may rest on my shoulders now._

She gently removes her arm from under Tome's head. The Constable makes a gentle noise. Dani looks down and smiles. She turns and pads into the small living area. She removes her datapad from the pile of clothing near the doorway. She sits at the table near the now-cold take out. She pulls a small dumpling from a bag and nibbles on it. She will have to eat soon, as a Zeltron's metabolism is much higher than a humans.

Especially with the amount of energy expended in the last three hours.

She scrolls the pad to a collection of dry intelligence briefings collated by a certain tiny slicer. A tiny slicer who claims the man she is looking for as his little brother.

A report from an isolated attack on a remote data station. Of a report of Mandalorian and clonetrooper involvement.

Two Republic commandos and a small, possibly female Mandalorian clad in black armor with orange splashes. A footnote states in dry prose that those colors represent justice and a lust for life. She smiles at the combination. _My kind of girl._ She reads a description of the two Republic commandos. One in plain, well used camouflage, only seen on the ship. The other captures her attention.

Commando Phase I armor with inserts of the Mandalorian iron armor - _beskar_. Armor flashed and striped with three colors. Gold, green, and purple. The Mandalorian colors of vengeance, duty, and reportedly, luck.

She shakes her head. A broad grin flows across her beautiful features. A grin that approximates the reptilian smile of another. She thinks of a different meaning of those three colors.

Colors from the world she now sits in. The colors of the Elder Family of the Five Brothers. Colors representing power, faith, and justice. She nods to herself; highlights that on the datapad. Her eyes widen as she continues to read more of the prose. Of two words that leap from the scream. Two words whispered after this attack and others. Attacks made to free discarded, doomed clonetroopers and slaves. Two words that describe a melee'd fighting style that seemed to be able to predict where the next blow would come before it landed.

_Buurenaar alor. The Storm-King._

One Imperial report, discounted by an initialed notation from an ISB officer, had suggested Jedi involvement. The comment that discounted the notion simply stated, _Everyone knows that the Jedi and Mandos were deadly enemies._ The note is simply initialed DK, ISB-010.

 _Unless there happened to be a young half-Mando Jedi still alive_ , she thinks. She sighs as she hears a noise from the bedroom.

She puts the datapad down and walks into the bedroom. She checks the time. Dani Faygan climbs into the bed. She smiles as she feels dark eyes on hers. She gasps as a warm mouth caresses her throat and moves to her breasts. She lifts Tome's chin and gently touches the officer's lips with hers. Dani feels a ghosting of fingers at her center; gently demanding entrance. She can feel half-wakened emotions rising in her resonance. The light blossoms in her mind.

As she gives herself to the light; she knows that her first visit tomorrow on Corellia will be to a small slicer. The best of his kind, but one that she hopes that her half-remembered passive skills at avoiding his hands are not rusty.

**The Past**  
**Imperial Data Control Post**  
**The Western Reaches**

J'ohlana Wren, former member of the Nite Owls, a woman not given to anxiety, watches with her breath held as her prize student negotiates a ledge along the face of a windy cliff. A ledge no more than inches wide.

She and her other comrade sit in the cockpit of an old, beat-up surplus Republic assault shuttle. Gregor reaches over the back of her seat in the pilot's position and places his warm hand on her neck above the _beskar'gam._ She smiles and turns to look at him. "I'm okay, Gregor. I got faith in my dumbass."

Gregor's slightly unfocused eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Just remember, Lana'ika, he was my dumbass long before he was yours."

 _Yeah, well, my lad, I am pretty sure that you haven't been staring dreamily at him for the past six months like I have,_ she thinks ruefully. There is a quick intake of breath as the student slips. She realizes that it comes from her own mouth. His hand almost nonchalantly reaches out and snags the ledge.

At the last moment.

She feels Gregor's hand on her shoulder tighten as he realizes what she does, as King makes the move.

He has caught himself with a hand that is attached to a barely repaired right shoulder. A shoulder nearly shredded by a heavy repeating blaster over a year and a half ago. They both watch as he hauls himself up to the ledge. His good arm dangling unused.

J'ohlana nearly opens the comlink. She feels Gregor shake his head. "Not yet, _alor._ Not yet." She sighs and relaxes her finger off of the switch. She sees the armored figure; a figure clad in makeshift Republic and Mando armor move along the wider trail. 

He is soon moving quickly. She pushes the controls of the shuttle forward. The muffled engines push the shuttle parallel to him. 

She smiles as she sees her warrior; her hunter, as he calls himself, reach down and manipulate a door control. The door pops open. He turns and fires a cable from an ascension gun to the shuttle. Her slight figure is soon at the front of the lower ramp. She sees his signal. 

He catches her in his arms as she finishes her slide down the cable. "You know, you sure are clumsy," she says. "Thought we were going to be scraping you up a couple of times."

"So were you worried about me, a little bit, Jo?" he asks with a smirk under his bucket. "Hell, no. Gregor was panicking, though. Thought he was going to cry."

A snort is heard over their earpieces. J'ohlana grows serious. "You know the drill, Gambler. Get in, get the hard drive, and get out. If you do, you pass. Extra points for the virus spike." She smiles under her bucket. "Get caught, or get dead, you fail. Get out without the data; you fail."

She pauses. Even without his connection to her senses, he feels her gathering herself. "You fail, don't come back, because I will kick your ass for all of the hard work I have had to put in to get things through your thick Corellian-Mandalorian skull."

He starts to reply. She can hear the smile in his voice. The crooked grin that, unknown to him, makes her spend extra time in the showers trying to put it out of her mind. "Do I get a kiss for luck?" the Corellian in question asks. 

She punches him in his chest. "Keep your mind on your business, hotshot." But she raises her helmet slightly. He raises his own. His lips are warm as they touch hers, caressing them. His tongue touches her lips; she opens and meets it with hers.

A cleared throat in their earpieces breaks them apart. He smiles as he sees her chest rising and falling more rapidly. "Don't keep teasing me when I can't join in, kids," the clone says. King hears the rejoinder before she says it. "Why, Gregor. You know that you always have my permission to kiss King, if you wish," the young woman says.

"How do you know we haven't already?" sounds in stereo in her ear, from both of her comedians. "Gets lonely in the barn," the Corellian says, "especially since our teacher won't grace us with her beautiful presence."

She can feel her cheeks flaming. _What the hell is wrong with you, Wren?_ she asks herself. She covers it with grouch. "Get on with it."

He shifts his carbine around to the front. He moves in.

~+~+~+~+~+

 _Well,_ she thinks, _it was going alright until I got cute._ She is following behind him at a rapid clip. Energy bolts slice through the air from the bucketheads pursuing them. J'ohlana sees him stop and turn around. He passes the hard drive to her. "Get it out of here, Professor," he says. "I'll hold these assholes off."

"No, King!" she says, "I'm the one who got us into this by going for that extra data to sell. I can't let you pay for my mistake." She can feel her eyes tearing for the first time in recent memory. Since she had watched her family murder a village on a snowy world. Since she had seen a young Jedi fight her way against impossible odds for those innocents.

A young Jedi that she had seen in a crumpled holo above her hunter's bed in the barn.

She can feel his grin. The warmth suffuses her heart, even hidden behind his old commando bucket. "Don't plan to, darlin'." He pulls several devices from a bag. Devices she had never seen before.

He twists the tops of the spheres and rolls them towards the pursuing troopers. They see them, but like J'ohlana, don't recognize them as threats. She hears a whining sound and sees the beginnings of a blinding light before he covers her face with his body. When she looks up, she sees the stormies lying in a heap. She can hear moaning, but none of the Imperials move.

"What the hell was that, Gambler?" she says incredulously. "Electo-magnetic pulse. Old droid-poppers left over from my previous life. They fry the circuits of the buckets and fry their brains for a short time."

"Very good. Might get some extra credit, bud." she says. "Reminds me," he says. "Gotta take care of the real extra credit." He pulls a long device from his pack. He inserts it into the dataport near the door. 

"So, Teach. We haven't really discussed my reward for graduating," he says as they wait. "How about I don't shoot you in the head?" she says, looking around for pursuit. "I have been threatened with that before, or at least in a different area. How about when we get back, we get naked and get in a pile?"

She shakes her head at his boldness; his bluntness. The warmth intensifies. She slaps his bucket, gently.

"Only in your wildest dreams, stud," she says after a moment. _Hesitation?_ he thinks. A blaster bolt denies him any more thoughts on her pause. More troopers are running towards them.

"Got any more of those little surprises from your past, King?" she asks. "Nope, all gone. Get out of here, Jo. I'll finish this and hold off your fan club."

"What the fuck is it with you and your self-sacrifice today?" she yells. "What good is a graduation reward and extra credit if you are not there to enjoy it?"

She can feel his eyebrows rise. "Does that imply that there might be a reward?" he finally asks, almost in a whisper. She makes an exasperated noise. She seizes the back of his bucket and brings its face to hers. "You fucking idiot," she whispers into the pickup, so that only he can hear, "you had me the first goddamned minute I laid eyes on you and heard you speak."

He is silent as he contemplates this. His body automatically returns fire and crisps several Fleet troopers moving towards them. He hears a beep as the spike is absorbed into the system. "Come on," he says. "Let's get the hell out of here, Jo." As he turns to run, he feels a tingling at the back of his neck.

The beginnings of a mystical tingling that he had not felt since that horrific day over a year and a half ago.

When he watched the light go out of his Master's eyes. When he felt the Jedi die. His family. His way of life.

He turns back to J'oh. Her eyes widen. She can see a palpable change come over him. She sees his feet seem to lock to the metal deck. She has seen this manifest as a harbinger of powerful stubbornness and will.

 _Never with this power._ She can sense many emotions playing over him. Confusion. Joy at something regained. Joy tempered by bittersweet loss. _Aay'han_. 

She shakes the emotions away as she realizes her own danger. Two doors open and an officer and two Fleet troopers grab her arms. They wrest the blaster from her hand. "No!" he screams. "Run, King. Get out of here," she yells in the comm pickup.

He doesn't even think. He feels the tingle in his body swell to a full sensation. He puts his hands out. The three Imperials are yanked off of their feet and smashed together with a sickening crunch. _Practically as they laid hands on her._

J'oh feels herself lifted into the air and propelled to the door. Incongruously, she focuses on the fact that her blaster drops into its holster with no discernible physical assistance.

She falls to the ground at the hatch to the outside. The warrior can see the shuttle coming in, its front hatch yawning open. She can see the explosions around it. J'oh lifts the single jet pack from its place, where he had stashed it. She looks helplessly at him.

Three Imperial blasters are yanked out of the pursuing stormtroopers' hands. She can see him manipulating them in midair before they are propelled back to their owners.

He turns and runs towards her. "Go. Don't need one," she hears in her earpiece. _Or is it in her mind?_

The installation begins to quake with a chain reaction of explosions. A chain reaction starting with three overloading blasters.

She dons the jetpack and triggers it. She is propelled forward to the bouncing shuttle. J'oh remembers her training, as she sees the small target on the front of the shuttle.

A shuttle pitching and rolling, as Gregor uses his meager piloting skills to steady it. Her boots touch the metal deck. She turns and sees King at the entrance, as the explosions build. As she is about to fly back, she sees him jump.

Jump the one hundred meters or so to the shuttle. She is silent as he touches down, seemingly unscathed. 

She hits the button to close the ramp. She takes her bucket off as it completes the cycle. Her dark eyes, normally laughing, look at him with a deep, troubled gaze. He pulls his own helmet from his head.

His own eyes are marked by many emotions, some in opposition to one another.

Pain, fear, a touch of joy, and fear again flow over his features. She sees him close his eyes; then open them.

His green gaze is blank as he moves past her into the shuttle. He says nothing. His expression allows no indication of his emotions. He brushes past Gregor, who has come down from the cockpit after plotting the jump.

He watches after King, but says nothing. He turns to J'oh. "No pursuit. The installation was totally destroyed. You and he don't do anything by half-measures, do you, sweetie?" he says gently. She starts to say something; thinks better of it. Gregor holds up his hand, his eyes distant. "I saw, Lana." She stands there, unsure of what to do. His face gives a small smile. "Go to him, girl. He will need you now, more than ever."

He turns and rises back in the pilot's chair to the cockpit. After a moment, J'ohlana Wren walks into the main compartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buurenaar alor - (Mando'a) colloq. Storm-king


	7. Cuyan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Queen makes her own inquiries. A relic tells her of her nephew and his work. An ISB agent is on the hunt. The relic makes her own deal.
> 
> In the past, two warriors have their own meeting of minds.

**Drall Polytechnic**  
**3.5 Years after the Cataclysm**

Sabe´ nods at Breha Organa as they enter the Genetics Studies Department of the university. The Queen of Alderaan follows the former handmaiden into the elevator. She had been to this building once before, when on Drall for another diplomatic conference on refugees. She smiles as she remembers her nephew's pride at his new accomplishment; his new position.

Her face darkens with pain as she remembers how that meeting had ended. Anger flowing through his hazel eyes as they argued about the New Order and its policies. The young man convinced that the Empire would relax its grip once peace and the rule of law was restored thoughout the galaxy.

She had left him with her own anger. Her own belief that the Empire's idea of peace and order was the peace of the grave for anyone dissenting.

She stops in front of a door. She smiles as she sees the tile with his name on the door. A tile decorated with the light colors of a traditional Alderaani late Verlaine period. _He doesn't forget his roots._

She taps in the code that the Proctor had given her. After a little bit of Royal persuasion, as well as eye-batting, the woman had assented to her poking around in Dek's office.

The door slides open with a slight squeak. Dek had not been seen in a couple of months; his last message to anyone in the family had been three months ago.

It was apparent that custodial services had not been in here. Dust and nether-webs had begun to decorate the small room; the shelves of actual books. The few ornaments and holos from his family and heritage. Dek had been very close to his parents and the rest of the family, at least until the recent political contention.

He had cut himself off after the last heated argument with her Bail. She closes her eyes as she concentrates on that argument; trying to glean any clues from the heated words from both stubborn men.

A crumpled piece of flimsi on the floor next to the desk captures her attention. She picks it up. As she unfolds it, her eyebrow rises to the jewel hanging over her forehead from her diadem. She sees her nephew's smiling face in it. Looking up at another.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at the other. A slightly older face, a brown mustache over a mouth that appears to occasionally be able to smile, but isn't at that particular moment. A pair of black eyes; flashing at whoever took the holo.

Eyes that appear to be promising pain for the holo-artist. Eyes that have seen a great deal in a fairly young life. Dek looks up at the man with something close to adoration. 

Breha's face is troubled as she looks closer at the pair. She notes a long scar running along the drawn-back hairline. A scar that tells of a painful wound. There is something familiar about the man. She thinks back. Dek had brought home most of his interests and conquests to meet the family. Most had been colorless and forgettable college students and later, fellow academics. 

She gets the idea that she would have remembered this one. She tucks the photo in a pocket. 

"Majesty," she hears Sabe´ begin tentatively. She opens her eyes and turns to the young woman. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think that I have something here."

Breha walks over to her daughter's bodyguard. Normally, the Naboo would have stayed back at the Palace with Leia, but Breha had wanted to make use of other skills that Sabe´ possessed, other than the endless patience needed to deal with young, headstrong Princesses. She smiles. Qualities most probably learned while dealing with slightly older headstrong Queens.

 _Of course, that same headstrong little Royal brat has just driven away her fourth caretaker in the last year. The terrible twos had shown no signs of letting up._ She shakes away the thoughts of other, more pressing issues with her little challenge. Issues that had brought such a troubled look in the depthless blue eyes of the huntress. A huntress whose beautiful features had otherwise been more relaxed than she had seen them in months with the little girl dozing in her strong arms.

She curses silently as her mind wanders to her children. _Come on Bre,_ she says to herself, _focus._

The little voice in her head comes to her in a deep, cultured voice, with a warm smile reserved just for her. 

She sees Sabe´ looking at her with a slight, knowing smile. "What is it, dear?" she asks. The former handmaiden points to several books and tchotchkes on a shelf. "Look at the dust patterns here, my Queen. Someone has been moving things around. It looks like someone was looking for something since the place was last cleaned."

Breha walks over and examines the dust. Her dark eyes are troubled when they meet Sabe's. "Good eye, dear," she says. "Can you tell if it looks like they might have found something?"

Before Sabe´ can answer; a suspicious voice intrudes from the doorway. "Hello? May I help you?"

Both women turn; Sabe's hand going to her waistband. There is no one there.

Until they look down. A tiny, gray-furred being stands in the portal, her dark eyes without warmth. She leans on a small cane. Breha is immediately reminded of the few times that she had met Yoda. The tiny Grand Master of the Jedi Order had conveyed all of the intelligence of this tiny Drall. Intelligence enhanced by warmth, compassion, and a knowing wisdom.

She smiles at the Drall. She bows. After a second, Sabe´ mirrors her movement. The Queen notices that the older Drall's right leg is crooked; that when she moves; she moves with a great deal of pain.

The dark eyes survey them both. Breha is struck by the intensity of the gaze. She can see emotions flowing through the eyes one after the other. Suspicion, pain, regret. 

Even triumph. She dips her head slightly. As little as decorum dictates. "Good day, my ladies," she says, her voice gravelly and soft. "May I ask what you are doing in Dr. Antilles' office?"

Breha steps up. "My name is Breha Antilles-Organa. I am Dek's - Dr. Antilles' aunt. This is my associate, Sabe´. We are looking for him. His family worries over him."

"Anyone could claim to be family," the academic - they assume she is an academic, says. Breha places her hand on her protector's arm as she feels the younger woman's anger rise.

"True," she says quietly, "but you could look over at the holo on the wall next to the window?" The woman hobbles over to the window. Her dark eyes examine the likeness. A holo taken in happier times, before the Empire. Before the conflagration.

She turns and nods at the Queen. "You are the Queen of Alderaan, aren't you?" she asks. "I am, but right now, I am a mother assisting another mother who has gone before, looking for her child."

New understanding flows to the Drall's eyes. "I have never been a parent, your Majesty," she says sadly, "but I have taken care of new life, before. I understand some of the responsibility."

She motions the two younger women over to the desk. Sabe´pulls the desk chair out for Breha. Breha assists the older woman into the other chair, before she sits. The handmaiden stands behind Breha, her hand on the back of the chair.

"My name is Norgrahdala. I am a relic from times gone by. Dek and I worked together on his last project," she says, her gray fur ruffling slightly. "May I say, Queen Breha that your late sister could be proud of the boy - the man that she bore. He is a good man; wanting to do good in the universe." Breha swells with pride; but her eyebrows raise. 

Norgrahdala sees the expression. "I know that he and his family had a disagreement over the current political system. We had the same disagreements - but I think that he felt that the chaos of the last war caused untold suffering in the galaxy. He felt like the order imposed by the Empire would bring peace."

She looks down. She is silent. Breha places her hand over the old woman's. "I have had my dealings with totalitarian regimes in my life," the old woman says. "I have been idealistic; thinking that a certain side could bring peace because they were something new." She gathers herself, again. "My idealism and my willingness to suspend my own ethical code for it, caused more than a few people suffering." She smiles ruefully. "Gave me this, too," she finishes, pointing at her crooked leg.

"Dr. Norgrahdala, we are pressed for time. What do you think has happened to Dek?" Breha asks. The scientist shakes herself from her reverie. She takes another deep breath. "Dek and I worked on a genetic marker that could enhance the production of medicines and vaccines quickly. We used some of my research from the Clone War; research in which I was trying to use gene therapy on medicines to enhance their efficacy." The rueful smile plays over her furry features again. "Like most of my people, we are long on theory, but short on practicality. We remember everything. I was very impressed with Dek. I brought him in to make the therapy work. He was able to identify the breakthrough in two months." Her pride is palpable. "I had been trying to do this for twenty years."

"You told some of my people that the Empire is involved. How?"

She notices that Sabe´ had left and returned with a pitcher and glasses for water. Norgrahdala accepts a glass gratefully. "We published our results. Dek will most probably be getting the highest honors for this work. But in the journal article, I did include a small fact from some of the previous research. An offshoot of my research involved genetic code manipulation. There is a way in which the work can be manipulated to make genetic enhancements to large numbers of beings with little effort. It was a two-page excerpt from the entire journal article."

"During the war, there was even talk of using this to clone the midichlorians of Jedi. Nothing ever came of it. "Sabe' narrows her eyes. _There is something that she is leaving out,_ she thinks. _Is that guilt?_ the Naboo muses.

"Some colorless bureaucrat, an engineer, no less, from Weapons Research came here. He brought a geneticist with him. They asked very pointed questions. They offered Dek thousands of credits to focus his research on that tiny part."

"Needless, to say, he thought up some excuse to stall. I could see the panic in his eyes. He came in here and copied everything - all of our notes to a portable drive. He wiped everything off of his computer." She closes her eyes. When she opens them, Breha can see the tears. "I approved his request for sabbatical. He went on the Holonet looking for something. He said something about making amends."

"The next day, he was gone. He left no note or anything. I went back and checked his paperwork requesting the sabbatical. There was a handwritten notation on it about the Bonu-Delan sector. I looked it up. It is in the Expansion Region. I couldn't find any other reference."

Breha tries not to let her disappointment show. The Drall notices. "I am sorry I can't be much more help," she says. "I hope that you can find Dek. He has been the light of my existence for the past year. He helped me see that I could do...." She stops. She looks up at the two women. "There is one thing. The only thing that I did find in the search history, was an extensive article on Togruta physiology and genetic makeup."

Sabe´and Breha look at one another in shock. "Does this mean anything to you?" Norgrahdala asks. 

"We don't know. It just might," Breha says. She stands. She takes Norgrahdala's hand in hers. "Thank, you, Doctor. You have been a great help. We will let you know what we find out."

As she and Sabe´exit, the Naboo turns and looks back at the tiny academic. She sits in the chair, leaning on her cane. Her face troubled with memory and pain.

~+~+~+~+~+

Sabe´slides in next to the Queen in the rear of the aircar. As the vehicle moves away from the Polytechnic, the bodyguard turns to the Queen. "What does this mean about the Togruta, my Queen?"

The Queen looks at her. "It means we may be able to narrow down his location, dear. Bonu-Delan may be in the same region as Shili, but is a long way away. Almost tucked away and hidden in the Expansion Region." She slaps her hands together. "Contact Nola. She and Ahsoka can look into this. At least we have an area."

~+~+~+~+~+

Norgrahdala sits for a long time in Dek's office. Her mind is on the past. Of a tiny, dark-haired, bronze-skinned young girl. Of the holos of the donor subjects for the project. A beautiful Chalactan woman and a very large clone trooper. The pain in her chest rises as she thinks of the little girl. A beautiful light born of a dark experiment. 

She wonders if the little girl and the donors are still alive. She is fairly certain that the Jedi, the woman is not.

The old woman thinks of an opportunity that Dek Antilles had given her to possibly make amends for her past. She thinks of the opportunity she would give him; so that he would never feel the crushing guilt of having helped evil and darkness flourish.

Norgrahdala is thankful that the young Queen had come to her door. She hopes she has given her enough to find him and ensure his safety.

She smiles as she hears the doorknob rattle. _Ah. Right on time. At least they can make the shuttles run on time._

But the darkness had taken that away. It had come for her. She looks up at the open door. A young human in his late twenties stands there.

He looks at her through a pair of hard eyes, from which no light escapes. "Hello, Norgrahdala. ISB. The Separatists send their regards for your work." 

"Let's go somewhere less comfortable and talk about Project Replica and how you can help your Empire."

**The Past**  
**Hyperspace**  
**The Western Reaches**

J'ohlana quietly enters the main cabin of the shuttle. The man that she knows as her student; the man who had just demonstrated otherworldly powers stands near his bunk. His armor sits piled on the mattress. Her eyes take in the sight of him packing a small bag. She sees two items among the pile of clothing and equipment. Two items that she knew he possessed from their brief discussions of his past, but had never actually seen.

Two cylindrical items; one metal and one wooden. Both elegant and beautiful in their design and construction. Both terrifying in their power. 

Both items that could mean death for all of them if found by those in authority. The two items disappear into the bag, as does the commando officer's helmet. Her eyes tear as she realizes what he is doing.

He is running. Running to protect her and Gregor, even Kal and the others at the farm. Preparing to be alone again for his loved ones. She looks up at him. She realizes that his shirt is off. She has seen them before, but the view of the horrific scars on his right shoulder, front and back, takes her breath away.

She shakes her head and steels herself. She walks over. The warrior knows that the hunter senses her. The reconnection to the energy field and its mystical jumbo-jumbo ensures it.

J'ohlana Wren touches the bare skin of his back. She feels his warmth as the muscles bunch. He looks up, knowing she has something to say.

She says it. "What the hell are you doing, Gambler? Why are you packing?"

He turns to her. His gold-flecked green eyes are unreadable. "Why the hell, do you think, Jo?" he asks quietly. He looks down. "I, and people like me have a death mark on us. Just because of what we were born with. Anyone harboring us are liable for painful deaths, as well." He stops, takes a deep breath. "Before, when it was broken, it was easy for you and Kal to let me stay there. My Force-sense is back. Now," he looks at her, "I am better than most at shielding, but it could put you at risk for that. I can't bear that on my conscience."

She is silent as she looks at him. "That young girl in the holo over your bed," she says. "The one that you have on the inside of your bucket. The one that is looking at you with such love and laughter," she stops as he starts to protest. "Don't, King. You don't have to explain your feelings. I hear you call out her name when I am standing at the door of the barn while you are sleeping. I hear your litany."

"I met her before. When I was with Death Watch. Our leader was about to behead her because rather than staying under wraps when he murdered an innocent and ordered us to kill and burn everything, she faced us down, with nothing more than a staff. She then stared Vizla down when he was about to take her head, until she was able to get her sabers."

Her eyes smile at him. "You have good taste. She was beautiful and magnificent in facing us down. She got her, her droid, and that pasty little prick Bonteri out of there." He smirks at the assessment of Ahsoka's erstwhile suitor; having heard her Master's own analysis on that subject.

His face stills as he sees her tears. "More importantly, she showed me that I could stand up to my family. I got out of there as soon as I could. Pissed off most of my family, but I don't care. They must be over it, 'cause they joined me at the farm after the Sieges."

She pokes him in his chest. Near a scar above his right lung. "If she meant anything to you, don't sell her memory cheaply. Don't run from me. Give me the choice of kicking you out. Because when I do, I will be going with you."

He smiles. "What about your family, Jo? My kind are not exactly popular on Mandalore, after we kicked your asses back in the day."

"You let me worry about that.

"Yeah, but..."

"No 'buts', dumbass. I know my mind and what I want. I meant what I said at that Imp base. You are mine." A powerful smile flows to her features. "Plus, I do not acknowledge that the _jetti_ beat us. They just got lucky."

"Jedi don't believe in luck."

With that, she turns and walks out. _Funny way of showing you want me to stay, Jo,_ he thinks. He continues to put away his gear in the bag.The idea that she had met Ahsoka, or at least seen the powerful warrior that she was, is almost overwhelming to him.

He stops as he thinks of his hunt-sister. _Will it besmirch her memory, for me to stay and try to build a life? Does Jo even want one with me, or is it just my own goddamned wishful thinking?_

He sits on the bunk, the bucket in his hands.

~+~+~+~+~+

J'ohlana climbs up into the cockpit. Gregor looks back at her. A smirk forms on his face. "Let me guess. You want me to stay out of the main cabin for the night." She has the grace to look sheepish. She can only nod. "Figured you would already be going at it," he says. "I have moved my bedroll to the forward compartment. Or, most likely, I will sleep up here."

The smirk morphs into a gentle, unfocused smile. He touches her face. "Can you try to keep it down? I need my sleep, if I am going to be doing all of the work for you." His dark eyes track her as she reaches over the back of his seat. She puts her hands on either side of his face and draws her lips to his. "Thanks, _Vod,"_ she says. 

He nods and looks at her. "Be careful with him, _Lana'ika,_ " he says. "I owe him a lot, just as I owe you. Please look out for one another. You both mean a lot to me." He giggles. "Of course, that could be the brain trauma talking." She nods, her eyes serious. He reaches over and kisses her again. "Now, go," he says. 

His eyes grow troubled as the young warrior climbs out of the cockpit. He thinks of a young Jedi, learning to lead; dying a little bit after each injury or death to his troops. His mind's eye flows to two young women. One, most likely dead, a young woman learning to lead as well. A young woman on a dusty hell that had fought and bled for the lives of her hunt-brother's and her own Master's troops. The other, a fierce warrior running from her past and the violent birthright of her family. Both apparently connected, as Lana had told him how she wound up escaping from Death Watch. Both now bound to that young Jedi who had taught him and his brothers the meaning of leadership.

A young Jedi who had dragged them kicking and screaming to survival. 

He checks the instruments; then reclines the seat. His thoughts are scrambled as he thinks of his small family. His last thoughts before sleep, as always, are of his brothers from the _Bucket._ Those marching far away and those now enslaved by their chips.

~+~+~+~+~+

J'ohlana Wren climbs down slowly from the cockpit. She looks up at Gregor, who is watching her. He nods; a slow smile playing over his face. She turns and walks aft a few steps out of view of the pilot's seat; into the forward common area. She pauses at a small door to the bunk room. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, as if to center herself.

The young woman bends down and pulls her boots and socks off. She crosses her arms and in one swift movement, pulls her shirt over her head. Another movement and her trousers and underwear join the tank top on the deck. 

Her finger hovers over the button. _Last chance to back out, Lana,_ she thinks. She thinks of his eyes when she told him of her contact with the young Jedi on Carlacc. She had seen the emotions competing. Pain, memory, love and _aay'han_ \- all were there in that green gaze. _Will it hurt him more? Will he feel like he is betraying her memory?_ Her eyes tear as she thinks of his pain.

 _What about mine?_ a selfish part of her asks. She punches the button. In the eternity it takes for the ancient mechanism to open the door, she makes her choice.

J'ohlana Wren steps through the door. You are a Mandalorian. Clan Wren of House Vizla. The ruling House of _Manda'yaim_ for centuries. You can handle one half-Corellian of House Kryze. Even one related to the last True _Mand'alor_ before the pacifist Duchess wrested the world from the clans.

The man now known only by a nickname turns towards her, something unfathomable in his eyes. They have been training for months; have seen each other in various stages of undress; even have shared training tubs.

Nothing like this. She walks over to him. She lifts her work-roughened fingers to his cheek. His hands, just as callused from war, slide up her arms. He brings her hand down; encircles her with his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder. They stand there. Existing. He hears murmurs in her language against his chest.

He is about to say something when she places her palms against his chest.

And shoves. As he hits the bunk, he sees her triumphant smirk. Her hands move to his belt. Within seconds, he is as bare as she is.

He grunts as she places her knees on either side of his hips. Her smirk fades as her hands trace the recent jagged scar on his right hip; as her eyes track the other scars and blemishes that tell his violent history. She smiles as she sees the oldest one. A neat scar on his right chest over his lungs. She remembers the story of the Hunt on his Master's world that had produced the scar.

A scar of love. Made by young hands wielding a blade to save his life. The same hands that had shown her an existence beyond death and murder, beyond terrorism and blood. Without even knowing it.

His hands and eyes trace her own scars. A hole in her left shoulder that could have only been made by an old slugthrower. Vibroblade scars and burns.

His eyes grow sad as his fingers trace her nose. A nose endearing in its crookedness. A crookedness that he had caused with a head-butt that she had failed to dodge in a training spar.

When he had stopped to tend to her; he had suddenly found himself on his back with her knee on his throat. He looks down as he touches the damage.

She rolls her eyes. "Told you, stud. You weren't the first one to break that nose and you probably won't be the last." She reaches down and kisses the scar on his chest. He fights the emotions as he remembers. She sees him. "It's okay, King," she whispers. "I know. You have your ghosts." She doesn't mention hers.

She moves her lips to his face. Their lips meld together. Their eyes close as their tongues gently touch. They break free. She gasps as she feels his fingers move from her hip to her center. 

He smiles as he watches the expression on her face. The back of his knuckles moves through the curls over her mound. She gasps as one knuckle in particular causes her breathing to quicken. His mouth slides down to her throat; to the tips of her breasts. 

He feels her teeth on his shoulder as he adds more fingers to move along her entrance. She pushes off of his chest, with her powerful arms, but she does not escape his insistent fingers. He pushes off of the mattress himself to capture her mouth with his. He can feel her release building. 

He yelps as she grabs him and circles him with her strong hand. A hand that works with one of the toughest substances known in the galaxy; that molds it to her will. A hand that strokes him gently, helping to build his own light.

She moves her mouth to his ear. He feel the whisper against his skin. "Tell me your name, hunter," he hears. "Your true name."

She hears his reply as his tongue circles her ear. "My name is Jame," he says. "Jame," she whispers, savoring the sound.

She giggles as his tongue dips in her ear. The giggles rise to laughter as he exploits the sensation. 

The laughter turns to a building cry as his fingers move inside of her. He silences it with his lips as his hand finds the nerve cluster. She breaks her lips away from his as she grabs his hand and pulls it from her folds with the hand not busy moving him to his own explosion. He feels her knees tighten against his hips again as she rises up.

J'ohlana positions him against her entrance. She sinks on him. He tries to move inside of her. 

The warrior is having none of it, as she squeezes him even tighter. She opens her eyes and looks down at him as her finish builds. He sees the smirk as she increases her speed. "That all you got, _jetti_?" she challenges. 

With an effort, he powers past her strength, to add his own movement. _Either that, or she lets me._ he thinks, laughing to himself. He can feel his explosion building, but he fights it. _Guess all that Jedi training is good for something._

He sees something in her dark eyes that he has only rarely seen in the proud fighter. Vulnerability. 

The moment passes as she closes them in her explosion. He mourns the loss of the beauty. 

He doesn't let her have a respite. She gives a quick exhalation of breath as he flips her over. He slows down; deepens his thrusts. Jame feels her breath continuing to come quickly. Jo begins to thrust against him, trying to get him to quicken his pace. 

He refuses. For the first time, she starts to moan. He smirks as he hears nonsense words in her birth-language as she builds. She opens her eyes. He melts as he again sees that rare vulnerability in the dark gaze.

Jame gives in to her insistent thrusting. He feels her nails digging into his back as they leap from the precipice together for the second time that night.

At least no one is shooting at them this time. 

As their breathing slows, the two survivors roll onto their sides. One of a life in which his family burned in an inferno; the other of a life in which she chose to extinguish an inferno.

Their hands play over each other's faces. He moves his hands to the long braid that lays over her shoulder. The braid of beautiful dark hair that she usually tucks under the backplate of her _beskar'gam._ He undoes the braid and lets her hair play over their contrasting skin. She touches his lips with her thumb. "You are beautiful," she whispers. "My beautiful gambler. _Ner mesh'la jetti."_

He kisses the thumb. "I am glad that you finally admit that I am prettier than you."

Their laughter rises together as she shoves him out of the bunk onto the deck of the shuttle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuyan - (Mando'a) Survivor
> 
> Ner mesh'la jetti - (Mando'a) My beautiful Jedi.


	8. Nuhaatyc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the present, Fulcrum catches up with a friend from before. 
> 
> In the past, three warriors decide to make a stand.
> 
> In a hellhole, a warrior makes a stand of her own.

**Bothawui Proper**  
**3.5 Years after Empire Day**  
**The Crossroads**

The tall Togruta looks out as he polishes the spotless bar. The clientele are equally engaged in repetitious, useless behavior as they each try to figure out what the others are doing.

Bothawui; the galactic clearinghouse for information, illicit or otherwise is like that in every place of public drinking and eating. Everyone is engaged in a neverending dance of feeling each other out. 

In short, of butt-sniffing, as those in the trade might call it. The Togruta sighs. A frown creases his scarred face. He puts the polishing cloth down and flexes the artificial limb that rests in place of his left arm. His lekku twitch in annoyance. Or at least what is left of his left lek twitches. 

A shadow passes in front of him. He looks up, about to put his best welcoming barkeep expression on his face.

His expression grows more genuine. A pair of powerful blue eyes look out at him from a cowl and hood combination. Blue eyes wise beyond their years; but still with an open earnestness about them.

Less pained and guarded than the last time he had seen their owner. "Ashla!" he says, using an alias that he knew she had used before. "Fulcrum," he says in a lower tone. She pulls down her cowl. Her own smile is genuine. "Hello, Selda," she says. "It's great to see you."

"You, too, young one. I am glad to see you whole and alive." For just a moment, his memory flows back two and a half years ago on a tiny agricultural moon. A moon whose agricultural use had been marked for destruction by the Empire. A young huntress, whose only inclination had been to stay off of the Empire's radar, had saved a large portion of the population.

Including a broken Togruta bar owner. He signals to another bartender. He motions to Ahsoka to follow him back into a storage closet. He is not surprised when another tall figure follows them into the cupboard.

As soon as the door closes, Ahsoka is pulled into a tight embrace. She rests her head on his shoulder for a moment. She can feel the prosthetics under his clothing; there is barely any flesh left. "You know, you could visit when you didn't need anything, little huntress."

"I know, Selda, I know." Her face saddens. "Do you hear from any of the others?" she asks. A smirk common to their heritage moves across his face for an instant. "Kaeden seems to be doing okay. Both she and her sister said to give you their love when I do get to see you."

Both he and Ahsoka's tall companion smirk at the rebel's blush and twitching lekku. "You know, you really were clueless as hell, girl," he says gently. "That young woman was so in love with you. Everybody else saw it. You broke her heart."

Ahsoka looks down. "I know," she repeats. "I was clueless about a lot of things. Didn't have my mind on the everyday things." Her voice is tinged with a hint of regret. 

"If it is any consolation, she's clueless about other things, now. Not as much about whether somebody has the hots for her." Selda laughs at the young woman's thunderous expression at her companion. 

A tall, cool human woman lowers her own hood. She holds her hand out. Her face grows warmer when split by a welcoming smile. "I'm Nola," she says. "It is good to meet someone who knows her from before."

"Nola thinks that she is a comedian, but she is actually, a pretty good fixer." the young Togruta says. Selda bows to her and takes her hand. In spite of the snark and Ahsoka's thunder, the bartender can tell that there is a great deal of care and affection; each for the other. She smiles fondly at Selda. "Selda was one of my first recruits. He has his finger on the pulse of everything around here - especially if it has anything to do with slaves and refugees."

Selda pulls out a small bottle and holds it up. Ahsoka nods. Nola follows her lead. Selda pours a tiny bit of the orange liquid from the bottle into three glasses. The two women take up the stemware. Ahsoka is more confident than Nola. The three of them hold the glasses up to one another. 

Both Ahsoka and Selda smirk at Nola's expression and changing colors. Her face runs the gamut of several different shades of green. Ahsoka points her to the 'fresher, recognizing the expression.

The sounds of heaving can be heard from inside the tiny room. While waiting for the storm to subside, Selda asks idly, "What can I help you with, Fulcrum? Don't have a lot of time. Since I don't own this high-class establishment, my time is not always my own."

Ahsoka is silent for a moment. Nola walks back out; wiping her mouth. Her expression promises swift and deadly retribution. Ahsoka Smirks at her expression. "What the hell was that, Tano?" the Fixer asks through clenched teeth. 

"Homemade turu-grass moonshine. Don't look at me like that. I thought you could handle your liquor."

Ahsoka grows serious as she turns to Selda. "Anything strange going on in the Bonu-Delan sector regarding our people?" she asks her operative. He nods absently as he thinks. "There has been a report of an unregistered Imperial Refugee camp in the sector. A large number of Togruta are reportedly there." He looks into Ahsoka's eyes. "They are reportedly left over from the resettlement of Kiros during the war."

Ahsoka closes her eyes. Nola can see more pain added to her face. "What is it, Ahsoka?" she asks gently. The young woman doesn't answer. Instead, she gets up and walks away, her eyes distant. Nola looks at Selda. The old Togruta gives her a bittersweet smile. Nola raises her eyebrow, waiting. Selda downs his drink; pours another. "During the war, Kiros was a Togruta artisans' colony. The Seppies roared in and took over. Ahsoka and her Master, as well as a task force were sent to find them. They got to Kiros and found the Seppies, in the form of Zygerrian slavers."

"We wound up going to Zygerria, posing as slavers and slaves," comes a clear voice. Ahsoka walks back over. She and Nola share a look. "We found the population eventually and were able to free them. The Republic was supposed to resettle them, but Kiros was compromised, and like most things during the war, they fell to the wayside. Some got back to Kiros, but a good number wound up in refugee camps all over the place."

She looks at Selda. "My friend, we are looking for someone specifically who is missing. A human. We have information that he might be mixed up with something with our people. You have any more information?"

"Not really. I can make some enquiries. How discreet do you want me to be?" he asks. He already knows the answer. "Very," is all that she says.

"Well, it might be hard. I am going to have to bring an information broker in." His expression is unreadable. Borderline inscrutable. Her eyes widen. "Oh, no, not him, Selda. Not in a thousand years."

"Sweetie, Krtsador is the best. He can find out anything." 

"Yeah. He can also sell you to the Empire quicker than anything. Believe me, I know."

Nola asks, "So you two have history?"

Ahsoka looks at her, her blue eyes growing fierce. "If you call getting arrested by local Imperials and thrown into a shithole lockup on some tiny backwater because that bastard got a better deal, history, then yes, you can say that's what we have," she says. "Find someone else, Selda ."

"Ahsoka, there really is no one else. You have any better ideas?"

"What about Locan? He has been pretty dependable." Selda shakes his head. "He's dead. His son has taken over the business. Not getting a lot of good reviews on him, yet."

Nola smirks. _Didn't know that my huntress knew so many scumbag Bothan spies and information brokers,_ she thinks. "He'll have to do, Selda. I don't have the time nor energy to deal with Krt's bullshit. Plus, I don't have the time to break somebody new in."

Nola looks to Selda. "Will Krtsador try anyone unknown?" she asks, thoughtfully. Selda looks at the fixer. "It is possible. He can never resist a pretty face."

Ahsoka snorts. "Until he turns you over to the stormies, after spending the better part of two days trying to get you to drop your pants. It was a good thing these weren't the brightest Imps I have come across. They didn't get a chance to run my information before I was able to beat feet." A dangerous smile quirks her lips. "Or salvage what was left of their little jail."

"Well, let's go at it a couple of different ways," Nola says. "Selda, you can introduce me to Krtsador. Ahsoka, you can go with the son of the other guy. Whoever gets the information last, buys the next month's breakfast at that diner near the University. Heard they've got a cute new waitress there, who is only moderately surly, rather than full-on like the cook."

Ahsoka Smirks again. '"You know that I can put away the breakfast food, No-no." 

"Yeah, but you aren't going to win. I am better at you than this."

"In your dreams, sweetie," Ahsoka says.

Selda is unaccountably warmed by their by-play. _It is good that my huntress has someone to match wits with and count on. Something that she did not have on Raada. At least not anybody that was at her level of skill._ He smiles ruefully. _Just a bunch of amateurs. Amateurs who wouldn't even listen to her._

He watches Ahsoka's face darken. "Remember this is not a game, Princess," she says. "They play for keeps here." Her face darkens. "Also, Nola, we can't carry weapons on Bothawui. At least not openly."

Nola nods and turns. Ahsoka and Selda watch her walk away. The older Togruta places his hand on hers. "I am so glad to see you, young one. It has been too long." He looks into her blue eyes. "How're you doing, truly?"

She smiles gently. "I am..... I am alive." They switch to the language of their birth. "You have to be more than just alive, Ahsoka," he says.

"You don't when that is all that you have time for." He moves his good hand to her cheek. She leans into it for just a moment. "I am feeling the deaths more these days. When I was on Raada, I was able to push them away. I find it harder to do that, now. Even with all that I have to do."

"It is okay to mourn, Ashla," he says, unconsciously using her alias. He looks into her blue eyes. His wise eyes cut through her. She looks away. "Is there someone in particular, Ahsoka?"

She smiles, as her answer is careful. "I was a Jedi, Selda. I feel all of my dead." Her smile fades as she remembers a past life. "Or at least I feel that they are not there anymore. I didn't feel them all die individually. I felt horrible pain. But many are just not there any more." 

She can't look him in the eyes. He drops his hand from her cheek and pulls her into his chest again. "You may fool yourself, Ahsoka, but you can't fool the ones that love you."

He feels her hesitate, and then continue. "After I left Raada, I found I could no longer maintain the energy it took to keep from dreaming. I started seeing deaths. At least some." 

The images rush through her mind, one after the other. She sees a gray Jedi fighter shot down. The fiery death of her Finder, Plo Koon. She sees a blue lightsaber grow from the chest of her mother-of-the-hunt. She sees a loyal Commander with a scar near his eye ordering his men to fire on a man like a brother to him. Like a second Master to her.

She gently pushes herself away from Selda. He smiles and kisses her on her forehead.

She shakes her head of the memories and takes a deep breath. "Most I can't see." She is able to push away the ache of the sight of a tall young Jedi with a scar through his eye smiling at her. 

"For some reason, here lately, it's actually one who I was close to before I was apprenticed, if any of us could be said to be close, that is in my mind the most. After I left, we found each other and...grew closer. He was my hunt-brother." She sees the question in his eyes. "Were you raised in the Hunt?"

"No. We were city-dwellers. Obviously, you grew close." It is not a question.

"Yes. But only for one night, in a different way. A night just a month or so before the universe exploded."

Selda watches the young woman as she grows silent, lost in her thoughts and with her dead. He remembers a powerful young woman. Lost in her own grief, withdrawn into herself. Trying to survive. 

Instead, choosing to live for others again. Giving a collection of simple farmers the courage and the skill to fight for themselves. Saving them.

"Do you think that he might be alive? You said that you didn't feel him die like you did the others." She smiles gently at his confused look when she shakes her head. "I don't feel him anymore. He was always kind of there in my head. Not like the bond I created with my Master or anything formal. Just kind of there." Selda can see a bit of moisture in those expressive eyes. "He is not there." Selda smiles gently. _You don't sound too sure, my child._

She drains her glass and makes a face. "You know, this stuff really tastes like you dipped the ass of an _Akul_ in it," she says. 

"I am not a great huntress like you are," he says with a grin. "I wouldn't know that particular flavor." His expression grows serious. "I know, but it is a reminder of home."

There is a wistfulness in her eyes as she gets up. "I don't think I will ever be able to go back there, Selda, for more than a day or two." Her voice takes on a grim tone. "Unless someone carries me back to return to the cycle when I...." She shakes her head violently. She embraces him and kisses him on his scarred cheek. Without a word she turns and leaves.

His eyes are sad as he sees in his mind's eye, the vision of a beautiful, strong huntress lying on her birthworld, waiting for it to reclaim her.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola enters the plain office. She checks the 'imaginary' blaster at her waistband under her jacket. She looks around. An Ithorian sits at a desk in the outer office. His widely spaced eyes stare at her. "I am here to see Krtsador," she says. She stares at the Ithorian; who stares right back at her.

She sees the Ithorian push a button on the desk. A door swings open. Her new talkative friend jerks his head to the open door. Nola cautiously walks through. A handsome Bothan; his fur flowing and shiny, sits at yet another desk. He puts on his best charming grin.

One that looks like it could use a great deal of work. "Hello," he says. "What have we here?" 

Nola purses her lips as she looks the Bothan in the eye. 'We' want some information. Information on Imperial dealings in the Delan system."

The look that the Bothan gives is positively lupine. "Do you now?" he breathes. His eyes look up and down her figure. _Okay. Might as well work this to my advantage._ She opens her jacket more and throws her shoulders back. His dark eyes track down to the three open buttons at the top of her shirt. _Yep, every time. Good thing I listen to Outer Rim pirates and their clothing tips._

_Don't know what Tano was worried about. Give him a little show and you can get anything. This is going to be easy._

"That is interesting. A certain Togruta of my acquaintance, one who I have tried my best to have on her knees before me or lying on the floor with a hole in her head, has been asking one of my new subcontractors the same thing. Seems a lot of people want to know the location of a certain facility." His dark eyes rise from their perusal of her chest. They narrow. "A facility with a good number of that slut's fellow savages."

 _So Locan's son sold out to the competition,_ she thinks idly. "I think that the Togruta's head tails will look nice on my wall. She is attractive, but too damned much trouble. You on the other hand, I think I can handle. At least before I turn you over to the Empire. You won't be as pretty after the ISB gets through with you."

Without a word, Nola draws and shoots him in both kneecaps. His screams bring the Ithorian, who is soon lying in a heap; his hands tied behind his back.

"You were saying?"

"So, darling," the Naboo says, sweetly, as she finishes tying the Bothan up. "What can you tell me about a Togruta refugee camp in the Bonu-Delan sector?"

_As I said, easy._

An explosion rocks the building. She closes her eyes. _Two guesses who that might be,_ She takes the datachip from the slot where it was filling with information and tucks it in a pocket. She turns and exits towards the chaos. "Oh stop whining," she says to the Bothan lying on the floor. "Be glad it was me and not my friend. She would've aimed a little higher." A credible huntress' smirk comes to her face. "She would've been a little more poetic in her aim, sweetie."

She brings her comm to her lips. "Hey Tano. If the town ain't standing anymore, then you lose the bet." The rejoinder is not repeatable in polite company. "Well, in any case, I think we have worn out our welcome, thanks to your winsome personality."

She hears the roar of the old Y-Wing swinging around to her position as she climbs to the roof of the building. She sees a trusty little droid in the socket. Complaining every step of the way.

Her heart calms as her eyes lock on a beautiful orange-skinned pilot sitting at the controls. She folds herself into the turret. "Can't wait for the food that you are going to be buying, dear," Nola says as she holds up the chip.

Right next to an almost identical chip held in an orange hand. Her face falls. "Guess we'll have to figure out two out of three. So, did you leave anyone alive?"

An aggrieved tone touches the clear voice. "For your information, I was getting ready to rock Locan's son's universe in a different way." Nola can hear the Smirk in the voice. "Good thing he was adopted. Thankfully didn't have the family resemblance."

"So, where did the explosions come from?" The snark creeps into the voice. "At least the ones that we could hear."

"Well, apparently he wasn't appreciative of my efforts. Fleet troopers tried to interrupt the negotiations." _Damned Mirialans,_ Ahsoka thinks.

"Or you just weren't as good at it as you think you were, Tano."

"Never had any complaints before." The voice softens. "Certainly not from you."

Nola struggles to bring the snark back into her tone. She ignores the last words from the ex-Jedi. "Yeah, 'cause the Imperials always show up and there are explosions. Convenient."

Arseven's commentary ends the conversation as he gets the last word. "Yeah, you can tell he's your droid, Tano. So while you were trying to pump your mark for information, were you able to find out where we are going?"

"Delan's fifteenth moon. The camp is there. Selda has been busy. He has acquired some stuff to help us get in."

"So what's the plan?" Nola asks. Ahsoka smiles. "I have an idea. But you aren't going to like it."

"Why am I not surprised, Tano?"

**Hyperspace**

Croft sits at the controls of Thyla's tiny freighter. Rex and Thyla are asleep, or maybe not. They are in the cabin and are probably horizontal. He smiles. They both deserve some light, after what both of them have been through.

Croft checks the navicomputer. _Yep. On time._ he smiles. He hears a noise behind him. 

He turns and looks at Rex. The trooper stands in a pair of trousers and an exercise shirt. "So, do you mind telling us where we are going, General?" Rex says. Croft raises his eyebrows at the title. Rex meets his gaze directly. "We're going to Saleucami," he replies.

It is Rex's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Why there? Don't get me wrong, it'll be good to see Cut and Suu, but it is not exactly the place I thought you would take us."

"It's where it all began for Gregor and Jo and me. It was kind of our base."

Rex nods. Thyla walks out from the cabin, stretching and yawning. Croft looks at her. She is wearing Rex's shirt; her bare purple legs sticking out from the tails.

She looks at him, daring him to say something. He merely smiles and nods. "So how did you know to go there?" she asks.

Croft pulls out the worn flimsi. He beckons them over. "Look at the numbers and letters, very closely. See where those _beten_ are placed?"

"What is that?" Thyla asks. He points at the mark. "It is a mark in Mando'a that indicates a pause or glottal stop in the speaking of the language." She nods. "I recognized the pattern. I realized that the letters are the first letter of the word; the numbers are the number of letters in each word. It forms a sentence."

Rex smiles. _This is the man that Drop and Gregor and those commandos would follow through all of the nine Corellian hells._

"So what is the sentence, sweetie?" Thyla asks. Croft rubs his forehead. She and Rex can see that he is gathering himself.

"They are words that J'ohlana Wren and I spoke to one another a year and a half ago on a hill overlooking Cut and Suu's farm on Saleucami. Along with some words from my other world."

He closes his eyes. "The words make up the Mandalorian marriage vows."

He can hear Thyla's intake of breath. She touches the ring on the third finger of his left hand, as if seeing it for the first time.Her face moves down to his. She kisses him gently. His voice is flat and even. "We said them a few months after we had decided not to go back to Mandalore; to the farm. After we decided to try to do some good in the galaxy again."

Rex is thoughtful as he watches the ex-Jedi. The Corellian begins to speak.

**Saleucami**  
**1.5 years after Empire Day**

Jo rests her head against his chest as they float down from the bursts of light. He feels her smile against his skin. He looks up and surveys the floor of the barn, at the water that had sloshed out of the large wooden tub from their exertions. He kisses her on her forehead. "You do realize, stud, that we are giving Cut and Suu's kids an education," she says. She jerks her head to a slightly larger gap in the boards of the old barn. He doesn't look in the direction.

Instead, in one swift motion, he hurls a boot at the gap. A yelp and the sound of scampering feet punctuate the twilight. Croft feels her laughter vibrating against his chest. As he lays back against the wall of the tub, he decides that he likes the feel. He grunts as he feels her twist at their connection. "Hey, King. We have to figure out what we are going to do, since we decided not to go back to _Manda'yaim._ She uses the old word for her homeworld.

"Nope. We don't have to, right this moment. All that I have to do is wait for the blood to run back to a certain place and then see if I can rock all of the water out of this tub." She moves the black gaze up to his eyes. A corner of her mouth quirks up. She places her lips back on his chest.

More water escapes the tub as he jumps from the bite that she delivers to his nipple. The fading light covers his attempt to push her head beneath the water.

An attempt that ends with them each trying to draw air from one another. As they break apart, he sees something in her eyes that he doesn't often see. The beginnings of tears at the corners. As she closes her eyes, he reaches down and kisses the liquid away. The salt is still on his lips as she opens them again.

They rest in the cooling water, simply existing. 

"You know, we could get a lot more done if you two could stop taking long bubble baths." 

Jo doesn't move from where they are connected. She sighs. "Gregor, we've had this talk about boundaries, _Vod._ Nice people knock and wait for other nice people to finish what they are doing. Especially when those other nice people were just about to start. Again."

"Ain't nice people, Lana. As I have told you before in these conversations. All those head injuries insured that."

Croft looks down. Jo raises his chin. _Not your fault, jetti. You weren't the one who started the war._ "Besides," Gregor says, "I've seen everything you both have got. Just maybe not as shiny."

Jo jerks her head to the door. "Meet us in the dining room in fifteen, Gregor. We'll talk."

He smirks as he turns away. "Always knew that Croft couldn't last that long." He dodges the other boot thrown at him as he exits the barn.

~+~+~+~+~+

"So, what are we going to do, since your family has started smelling of Imperials?" Croft asks. 

Jo sighs. The last time that they had been to Mandalore, the atmosphere had been strained. She smiles. _Didn't help that King beat the snot out of five of them in one spar._ The smile grows wider as she thinks about the lovemaking session when he had finally woken up.

She starts as she sees that both Gregor and Croft are watching her with wide grins. She realizes that she is blushing. "Assholes," she mutters.

She looks at Gregor. He nods. She takes a deep breath. "I have an idea about that, King. Gregor and I have been thinking."

She feels the Corellian's intake of breath. He says nothing. She forges ahead. "There are a lot of clones that are being thrown away by the Empire. Most of them are just being discarded as they age." She stops, unable to go on. 

Gregor touches her hand and continues for her. "There are rumors that unscrupulous Imperial commanders are either outright disposing of them, or selling them to slavers. A more blatant form of slavery."

Jo sees Croft's pain flowing into his eyes. She knows what he is thinking. She has heard it from him in moments of quietness, lying in each other's arms. _All I want to do is to find a planet and pull it in after us. I just want to lose myself in you and never have to fight again, except to protect my family. You. Our children._

She looks down. "I know what you are going to say, Jame," she says, using the name that he had given her. The name that he was born with. She sees Gregor's eyes widen. "I know you want to rest. You and Gregor probably have earned it, more than most."

He takes her hand. The tears well in her eyes. "But I did and saw things as a part of Death Watch. Things that I cannot wipe away. Horrible things. Your huntress showed me a different way. I need to do things that make me feel like I can look you in the eye as you mourn her."

He starts to shake his head violently. "Jo, you never have to....." She puts her fingers against his lips. "I really do, love."

He stands and walks to the window. His eyes are on the moon rising over the fields, but his mind remembers.

Remembers the dead. Remembers the fight. Gregor reaches over and pulls J'ohlana into an embrace. He lets her tears darken his shirt. They break away as Croft turns to them.

Croft looks from one to the other. "What are you proposing, Gregor?"

He sees Jo touch Gregor's hand in support. "I have made a contact. A slicer. I don't know where they are at, they don't know me. All that I know is that they can provide leads. Leads that can help me try to free my brothers."

Croft nods. He has an idea of who that slicer might be, but says nothing. A brother of his own past. 

Jo sees his expression. She reaches over and kisses him gently. As she pulls back, she begins her part. "I have my own contact, as well. Someone I have been hearing rumbles about. Someone who has started fighting back, in small ways. Small, but growing. They can help us be unseen."

"How do you know you can trust them?" he says. "They could be a goddamned ISB agent."

"Come on, Croft. I wasn't born yesterday. I am careful." She ignores his skeptical look. "So who is this super spy?" he asks.

"They call themselves Fulcrum."

**The Present**

The Imperial naval trooper watches as the high pressure water hose plays over the group of shivering, pathetic figures. A dozen or so Togruta, stripped of their rags are pinned against the wall of the enclosure as she and her fellows laugh at their attempts to evade the icy stream. She doesn't see one figure in the rear, a tall, young female standing straight as the stream strikes her.

The new arrivals are just a lump of orange and red; of other bright colors. The bright colors of their world. Individuals are all unseen.

If the Imperials had bothered to look, they would have seen the strength and the scars on the female's body. They would have seen that she does not try to escape the stream.They would have seen the defiance in her blue eyes.

But she remains, as the others, unseen. As she always has since she left an earlier life far behind her.

She smiles. A predator's smile. She counts on the Imps not seeing her. 

Her eyebrow markings raise as she starts to feel a growing, sharp pain in her rear lek.

One watcher, dressed in the identical bright shift that the veteran 'refugees' are clad in, raises the three parallel, vertical slashes above the eyes. 

The watcher raises them in recognition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuhaatyc - (Mando'a) Invisible, unseen


	9. Riduur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories from Saleucami - past and present will help find a brother
> 
> Memories from Kadavo will help a huntress stay alive.

Cut Lawquane looks up from the bridle of the eopie at a noise. His amber eyes narrow as he sees the small ship break into the atmosphere. He smiles as he sees the very particular route that the ship uses. He looks down at his son. "Jek, run ahead and tell your mother that we'll have some extra guests for supper." His eyes grow sad. "Tell her that I think that King has come to see us."

He turns and walks towards the small cleared field adjacent to a ridge. As he does, he looks up to a solitary rise with a single small tree. Cut's eyes focus on a small stone beneath the tree. He can just make out a small splash of orange at the base of the lonely stone.

His mind is troubled as he continues his trek to the field. The memories of pain and despair from the man who is going to walk off of that ship. Memories tied to that lonely stone and tree on the hill.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft walks down the ramp before it touches the ground. Six months have gone by since he last walked on it. Six months since his world ended again. He stops and squeezes his eyes shut. The smell, even the feel of the air assaults his mind and its memories. He opens his eyes. 

Another of his brothers stands in front of him; one that he didn't know until after the conflagration of Order 66. One who had escaped the life of a clone years before. He walks up to the former trooper. "Hello, Cut," he says, "been awhile."

"Hello, King. It didn't have to be. You were welcome here anytime. You could've stayed after..." He trails off. "Suu will be glad to see you."

"Really, Cut? Will she? Seems to me I remember words to the effect that blamed me for Jo." _You killed her and that baby just as sure as you put the blaster bolts in them yourself._

Croft stops and runs his fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't have come here if I didn't have to, Cut. I wouldn't have bothered you and your family." He stops as he sees Cut's eyes widen. As he sees a broad grin spread over the farmer's features. 

He walks behind Croft, his hand extended. The extended hand pulls his brother into a tight embrace. The two break apart. "Rex, I am so glad that you are alive," Cut says.

"It's good to see you, brother," Rex says. His smile widens as he looks to the path from the farmstead. "Damn, brother, they have grown."

Cut smiles broadly. "Yes, they have, Rex." His expression grows mischievous. "Of course, since Shaeeah is about to become a teenager, I have suddenly developed a desire to see other worlds again."

Rex looks beyond Cut. A young Twi'lek-human girl and a younger male of the same mix stand hugging Croft tightly to them. He gently runs his hands over their backs. Rex can see the pained look flowing over the Corellian's features. Cut looks at him sharply. "I don't know if it was such a good idea bringing him here. He may not be able to withstand the memories."

"Didn't have much choice, Cut. Gregor is in trouble. The message that he sent me specifically directed Croft to come here."

"Why, Rex? Why here? Gregor left months ago." 

A new voice intrudes. He looks at the ramp at the Twi'lek pilot. "We were hoping that you could tell us," Thyla says.

He bows his head as Thyla walks up. He takes her hand in his and says something in a musical language. Her eyes widen and a broad smile lights her features. She responds in the same language. She sees the two children and joins Croft. She kneels beside them. Very quickly they have moved into her embrace, whispering into each earcone.

"Come on down to the house," Cut says. "Plenty of food. The harvest was good this year."

"Are you sure, Cut?" Croft says. "I can stay with the ship."

"Don't be an ass, King. Suu may run this place, but I do still have some say in things." Croft smiles tightly. "You keep thinking that, brother, if it keeps you warm at night." the ex-Jedi says.

"Well, all of the weapons are locked up. The pot that she used on me when I went crazy; when the Jedi died, has since busted. So you should be safe, King," Lawquane says.

Thyla walks up to the pair, closely followed by Rex. "Don't worry, King. I will protect you," she says.

~+~+~+~+~+

The expression on Suu Lawquane's face is not reassuring when it falls on Croft. She walks over and pulls Rex into the same tight embrace that the rest of her family has. She greets Thyla with a bright smile and laughter, punctuated by bursts of their melodious language. 

She pointedly ignores Croft. Cut touches her on her pink cheek. Their eyes speak volumes to one another. She relents. She jerks her head to the Corellian and walks out into the yard.

After a moment, Croft follows her into the fading light. 

Suu gathers herself as she waits on him. She picks up a pail of feed and begins to sling the grains to the nuna that have gathered around her. She senses Croft walk up behind her. She continues her angry feeding. She finally throws the pail to the ground, scattering the nuna. He stands there for a moment, then without a word, he picks up the pail and turns to the feed bin. 

Suu looks down as he replaces the pail on the hook. Her vision tracks up to his back. She can see that he is gathering himself as well. He turns. Her blue eyes lock on his. She walks over to a small bench near the barn. 

The Twi'lek sits and pats the bench next to her. "So," she says softly, "how have you been, Tal?"

Croft starts at the use of his old name. He doesn't answer for a long moment. "I'm alive, Suu."

For the first time, Suu Lawquane smiles. "I can see that, dear," she says in her musical accent. "But I think that Jo would've wanted much more for you than just to survive."

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He feels a warm hand draw his head down. 

Down to her strong shoulder. 

Her resolve crumples. She brings her other hand around his head and hugs him tightly to her. Her own tears flows. "I am sorry, Tal. I am sorry that I drove you away. I was angry and hurting for her loss. I was pretty damned selfish in my grief. I am so sorry."

He lifts his head. He smiles gently, his hand going to her cheek. "You didn't drive me away, Suu. I had to leave. I couldn't risk endangering you and Cut and the kids after what I did...." His smile slowly fades. The twilight reflects in his eyes. "You weren't wrong, Suu. She and my boy were my responsibility. I didn't protect them."

A broad smile flows across her face in spite of her tears and grief. "That is the stubborn ass that J'ohlana fell in love with. She wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else, Tal, than by your side. It took me awhile to figure that out. But I did."

"She would also tell you that you are full of shit. You were her responsibility as much as she was yours. Don't you recall the Corellian words that you both spoke, as well?" _A marriage of equals._

She lifts his chin. "I am still angry and hurt that she is gone, but my grief is nothing compared to yours. Please let me help you with it. Please let us help you bear the pain."

He smiles sadly. "I appreciate it, Suu, but I don't have time. If I can't figure something out, then I will be grieving another loss."

She places a hand on each side of his face and draws her to him. Her lips quirk up as she sees him wince. She notices the bruises on either side of his face, as well as the one on his forehead. She gently kisses each bruise, then pushes him away. "Then let's go in and get some supper. We can all put our heads together and figure it out."

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano gazes at her surroundings. She is standing in a bright yellow shift looking at dozens of her people. All of them moving listlessly through an enclosure with energy barriers surrounding it. _Real nice example of a 'refugee' camp,_ she thinks. She counts at least eight towers with stormtroopers manning heavy blasters, with interlocking fields of fire into the camp. She looks at the brightly colored reflective clothing she wears. Her eyes narrow. _Only one reason that people wear this type of clothing. So that they can be seen at night if they are trying to escape._ Her teeth clench as she realizes that this is the type of clothing that she is wearing in several of her nightmares. 

Nightmares of her execution at the hands of the Republic, if her trial had gone differently. 

She notices several Togruta laying on the ground near the few small prefab huts. They seem to be curled in fetal positions and in great pain. As she walks over to one, she staggers as an intense pain radiates again from her center lek; throughout her head. Her vision blurs. The pain had started even while she was being processed; only an hour after her arrival. 

The pain had reached much more intense levels in the last few minutes. _Dammit, what is wrong with me? I have only been here a few hours now._ With a great effort, she staggers over to the wall of one of the buildings. She sits down with her back resting against the wall. She looks out again at her surroundings. 

Ahsoka notices that there is a second compound adjacent to the one that she and her people are held in. It is enclosed with the same type of energy fencing; with the same weapons towers.

She sees humans and a few other species wandering listlessly around the streets of the enclosure.

But none seem to be in pain like her people. Her vision blurs again. As she shakes her head to try to clear it, the meager contents of her stomach propel themselves from her mouth. She manages to turn to her side as she heaves for several minutes. Her hands manage to keep her from falling face first into her stomach contents as the paroxysm of vomiting slows and then ceases. She pushes herself back against the wall, as the she tries to still her spinning head. Using her back, she manages to pull herself to her feet. 

She takes the chance and calls on the Force to propel her to the nearest crumpled figure. She manages not to fall on her face as she reaches the figure, a male slightly older than she is.

The young huntress does fall to her knees beside him. She touches his cheek and manages to focus on his face.

She can tell that she is too late to do anything. She looks around. No one seems to be helping any of the others on the ground except for other Togruta.

Older Togruta. 

She tries to lift herself up, but her limbs betray her. The pain increases in her head. She realizes that her front lekku feel as if their own weight is tearing them from her head.

A pair of yellow-gold hands circles her arms and pulls her up to a sitting position. Her eyes focus on a pair of blue eyes - lighter than her own. A woman perhaps in her late thirties pulls her up.

A woman whose face is familiar to Ahsoka's. The woman supports her as she stumbles forward. Ahsoka stops her. She pulls her face closer to the older woman's. She has a memory.

A memory of diving head first to the deck of a structure moored above a chasm. Of using the Force to land on her feet and....

She struggles to remember. She sees herself, younger, with two lightsabers, dressed in her reddish brown Jedi tunic and gray leggings. Holding her arms out.

Holding her arms out and catching a golden-skinned Togruta. A woman whose light, pastel blue eyes stare out from under three vertical slash-markings on her forehead. A beautiful woman with an artisan's hands. 

Hands that are slightly rougher now as they touch Ahsoka's face. The woman brings a cup to Ahsoka's lips. Her vision focuses as she realizes she has been brought inside one of the structures. She is lying on a cot. 

The older woman smiles at her. "I remember you, Ahsoka Tano. You saved me. You and your fellow Jedi saved my people from hell."

Ahsoka remembers now. From a hell on a world alien to the Togruta.

Kadavo. 

Ahsoka Tano, once a Jedi in the service of the Republic, closes her eyes. She hears the woman speak again in the language of their shared birth. "Your secret is safe with me, young one."

Dala Ti sits on her bed next to the younger woman. She lifts the young woman's head and lays it in her lap, as the young warrior fights through the agony of the attack. The artisan of Kiros lifts the dampened cloth and wipes Ahsoka's forehead.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dav Kolan stares challengingly into Orson Krennic's colorless eyes. He can see the servos turning in the bureaucrat's head.

Slowly. 

Behind Krennic, Kallus glares at Kolan. "You are a disgrace to the ISB, Kolan," the bewhiskered agent says. "You should've been beached, or even better yet, shot when the Republic ended. You're just a jumped-up zoomie."

Kolan smiles, but the smile does not flow to his obsidian eyes. He runs his hand over the scar on his forehead, through his hair. "Listen, pup. Just because you might have made a name for yourself slaughtering insurgents on Onderon, doesn't mean that you know shit from apple butter." He steps up to the tall agent. "So don't presume to tell me how to do my job. Or try to kiss the ass of this scientist here."

Krennic starts to say something, but thinks better of himself when he sees the senior agent's expression.

"Good, Krennic, you've learned your lesson. I don't work for you. I work for Wulff Yularen. Directly. He is the only one that takes me to task for anything." _Not exactly true, but they don't need to know this._

Krennic pointedly looks at him. "Very well, Agent Kolan. While it is disappointing that you were unable to bring Dek Antilles to us, you did well in bringing the Drall theorist. She will be invaluable to the project, especially with her, ah, practical experience in the Clone War. Please continue your efforts to locate the Alderaani. His research could be the difference between being able to enhance a few hundred elite personal guards and entire legions of stormtroopers."

He looks at his chronometer. "In the meantime, I am needed on other projects. I am bringing in a geneticist to directly oversee this endeavor." He motions to someone behind him. A trim, blonde human woman of medium height walks into the room. She is dressed in the standard Imperial uniform of a research scientist. She stares at him with frank appraisal.

He returns the look. At first glance, she would seem to be a beautiful example of the New Imperial. Her clear skin and blonde hair would call into mind a porcelain doll. Until they looked into her piercing blue-green eyes. Eyes with at touch of a focused fanatic in them. The look would frighten away any potential suitor, as well as any potential colleague.

Dav Kolan merely meets her gaze with his own. A slight smile quirks her lips. Krennic sees the dynamic between them, but doesn't comment. "Agent Dav Kolan, if I may present Dr. Noar Zan Arbor. She is our best geneticist."

Kolan shakes his head slightly in recognition at the mention of the name. _Noted geneticist, but also the spawn of one of the most deranged scientists in the galaxy. Is there a reason that we are using the worst castoffs of the Separatists?_

The young woman takes his hand in hers. "Pleased to meet you, Agent Kolan. I look forward to working with you."

"The pleasure is all yours, Doctor, I am sure." The temperature in the room drops about twenty degrees.

At least from Krennic and Kallus. Zan Arbor does not seem to notice. "Agent Kolan, you will show the proper respect for one of my scientists."

"I am," Dav says. "I am showing more than enough respect for the spawn of Separatist scum. Scum whose weapons and other little designs killed friends of mine in the war." He lifts his fingers to his hairline. "One of her little missiles; those little buzz-droids, gave me this little jewel."

Noar Zan Arbor reaches up and runs her fingers across the scar. A sharp smile runs across her lips. "If I had've designed it, we wouldn't be talking now, Agent. The top of your head would be floating frozen in space."

"I don't serve my late mother. I don't serve the Separatists. You don't serve the Republic," We both serve the Empire. You would do well to remember that," she says in a high clear voice, with a Mid-Rim accent.

"Perhaps," he says with tight smile. "But just like I told Agent Sideburns, here, I don't need a little girl barely out of prep school to tell me what my job is and where my duty lies. You would do well to remember that."

She is silent for a moment, her face expressionless. A smile gently flows across her face again. "I think that we will work well, together, Dav Kolan. Or should I say, 'Trigger?"

It is his turn to fall silent at the use of his old callsign.

~+~+~+~+~+

Rex watches Croft carefully as he sips his drink. The ex-Jedi is outwardly calm as they sit in the main room of the farmstead after dinner. Thyla had produced a bottle of whiskey and the adults were happily shrinking the amount in it.

Rex stands and walks over to the dejarik table, where Croft is busily getting his ass kicked by Jek. The Captain can tell that the Corellian's mind is not on the game, but he smiles at the boy's crowing at his seeming skill.

"Begging the great warrior's pardon," he says with smirk, "but don't you think we need to go see what Gregor left here for us?"

He notices the look in Croft's eyes as he says it. The fleeting look of longing at the game. He suddenly understands. He meets Cut and Suu's eyes. The sadness at what might have been for the Storm-King.

A son of his own. 

He shakes his head and steels himself. "Come on, Taliesin. I know, but Gregor needs us."

He prepares himself for the storm, but is surprised when Croft stands up. "I've let you win enough, kid. Guess I'll let you off the hook."

Jek's disappointment cuts Croft to the heart, but he allows the boy to stand and grab him by the waist. He runs his hands over the victor's head in his own embrace. 

He can't meet Thyla and Suu's eyes as he turns. He looks at Cut. "So the only place that Gregor spent any time was out in the hollows?"

"Yeah, King. He left something out there for you. Something that you are very familiar with." He motions to the door. "Come on. I'll take you."

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft, Rex, and Thyla follow Cut. The trail that Cut leads them on meanders through the dark, but he is sure-footed.

Rex and Thyla can feel Croft's breathing increase as they pass the lonely tree with its solitary stone. Thyla looks at Rex. After a moment, he nods. Thyla walks forward and takes the ex-Jedi's arm in hers.

She is a reassuring presence as they approach a covered hollow. His heart sinks as he sees the shape hidden under a tarp and the trees.

The shape of what had once, up until half a year ago, been his home. A home that he, a beautiful Mando warrior and smith; and a slightly addled brother had shared. 

A home where they tried to make a difference for each their own reasons. Hers to lay to rest the demons that plagued her from her past.

His to help her, and mourn his own ghosts.

The brother's to save his remaining family from further slavery and degradation.

He curses silently as he walks up to the black shape. The black shape of a an old Republic _Nu_ class assault shuttle.

He touches the old Mando script on the side; hand-painted in small orange letters. _The Laughing Beskad._ Named for the ancient curved _beskar_ saber of their shared heritage.

And the laughter that the three of them had shared for a year. Before they failed at all of their reasons for fighting.

He smiles as he sees the flashes of orange highlights in the matte black paint. The Mandalorian color of a lust for life. Overlaid with that for justice.

J'ohlana Wren encapsulated.

As he steps closer, the ramp opens and lowers. He nods at the recognition of the systems. He and the others step onto the ship. "Gregor left it about three months ago. Said he needed to move more freely. He showed Suu how to turn her over every week or so and do some basic maintenance. She has kept up with it religiously."

Croft nods absently. "Any idea what he might have left as a clue?" Rex asks. "He was pretty specific in his message. He wanted you here, so you are the key."

"Awesome," is all that the Corellian says.

He walks further aft. Through the common area where Gregor had slept after he and Jo had married. The others follow. He closes his eyes and centers himself.

He feels nothing in the Force. Only ghosts. He turns to the others. "Why don't y'all go get some sleep. I will stay here and try to figure out what Gregor wants me to learn."

Rex and Thyla narrow their eyes. "Don't even think about ditching me, Croft." Rex says. Croft smirks. "Don't worry, Captain. I'll only ditch you to your face."

Rex and Cut turn and exit the ship. Thyla lingers behind. She walks up to him and takes him in her arms. "You don't have to stay here with your ghosts, Tal." Her eyes track to the deck. "We have a large bed. You are welcome in it."

He smiles at her. "Not so sure Rex would share your sentiments. Or you." She matches his smile. "Doesn't have a lot of say in the matter, if he wants any."

Croft shakes his head. "Much as I would love to, I need to be here. Plus, I think that Rex needs you. He needs the light that you can share."

She nods and reaches up. Her lips touch his. Her tongue opens his lips and caresses his. They break away. Her hand touches him on his cheek. "You are a good man, Taliesin Croft. I see what Lassa and Ahsoka and Jo saw in you." She grins. "Even when you don't want to show it these days."

After she is gone, he finally turns and walks towards the aft compartment. He takes a deep breath and thumbs the door switch. He steps back into his past. 

The compartment is as if he and she never left it. He kicks off his boots and starts to unbuckle his gunbelt. He lays it on the scuffed nightstand on his side of the bed, near the aft ramp and hatch. He smiles at her continued entreaties to _don't lay the goddamned thing on the wood.  
_

He sits on the bed and rolls to her side. He lays facedown. He closes his eyes. He swears that he can still smell her; the mixture of soap and those orange blossoms native to this world. 

His eyes close as he sees the orange blossoms again.

**The Past**

The man once known as Taliesin Croft stands nervously under a tree, in the fading light of early evening. Gregor, Cut, and Jek all watch him with varying degrees of amusement and exasperation. He adjusts the closed collar of his dress shirt for the fifteenth time.

Finally, Cut takes his hands from the garment and pulls them down to his side. "I thought you Jedi were all calm and stoic and such," he mutters sharply. Gregor and Jek laugh at his discomfort.

They are all scrubbed and polished as best they can. "Yeah, well. We ain't exactly trained for this moment."

He falls silent as he hears footsteps from the tent set up near the hill. He doesn't turn until they are just upon. He hears the intake of breath of his companions. He closes his eyes for a moment.

He turns. He smirks at the man with his arm about the small figure's. Escorting her up the hill. A man about fifteen years older than Croft with green eyes and a mop of blond hair. Green eyes that mirror Croft's own. 

Especially in the laughter and warmth. Fenn Shysa. Or Shy'sa, depending on whether he is feeling his title or not. His mother's younger brother. The last claimant of an ancient title on _Manda'yaim._ The true _Mand'alor._

His eyes are only for the figure he is escorting. A smaller figure; her dark, laughing eyes on his. She walks proudly to him; her head high. She is clad in a pure white gown that falls to her bare feet. The gown drapes only over her front and back, leaving her arms and flanks bare.

A wide black silk sash at her waist keeps the gown in place. The color of her armor; the symbol for justice. 

His heart stops as he smells a particular smell. His eyes track to her hair, the dark waves tamed by a circlet of flowers.

Orange flowers from this world. The color of the flashes on her _beskar'gam_..

Both descriptors of J'ohlana Wren to her heart. His eyes tear as he sees two other blossoms in the circlet. 

A flower of purest blue and one of white. In memory of one that touched both of them. For one, a fellow huntress and hunt-sister; the other, an inspiration to leave a life of darkness behind and seek the light. He sees the briefest flash of blue and white lekku and a warm Smirk in the corner of his vision. He sees another blue and white flash with a more serene look under them.

His uncle turns to her and kisses her cheek. She returns the gesture. Fenn looks at Croft and brings his own lips to his nephew's forehead. 

The only member of either's blood relatives there. The only one of his that knows he is alive. No Wrens are present, at the bride's request.

Under the threat of blasterfire.

He takes her hands in his. They look at one another; their eyes tracking from head to foot. He smirks at the white color of her gown. _Purity, really?_

A sharp hand slaps him on the back of his head. Jo smirks at her matron of honor just as the pink hand of Suu Lawquane falls away from his head. She sobers and nods to him.

He begins to speak. "J'ohlana, of Clan Wren of House Vizla, _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde._ We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

He tightens his grip on her hands. His eyes widen when Gregor hands him a tiny object. A small ring of the finest gold with tiny green and purple stones alternating around it. Croft takes the tiny ring, almost afraid of dropping it and places it on her third finger. He looks at Gregor. The Commander nods, slightly.

J'ohlana tightens her grip around his hands. "Jame," she whispers, using the name that few have heard. "Of Clan Shysa, of House Kryze. _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri cabur'e._ "

His eyes raise at the substitution of the last word. _Protectors._ Shaeeah hands her an object in turn. She slides the ring of forged _beskar_ on his finger. He smiles at the thin orange and black filigree through the center of the hard metal. Metal forged by the woman standing before him.

_Okay, now what?_

Jo continues. "Jame, of the Elder House of Blackthorn." His eyes widen. "You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require  and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand."

There is a pause as he fights to remember the words. The vows of a husband of his other world. Vows he had last heard a lifetime ago on a small naval vessel. Spoken by his half-brother and his love. "J'ohlana. I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night. And the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite from my meat, And the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and dying, equally in your care, And tell no strangers our grievances. This is my wedding vow to you. This is a marriage of equals."

They look at one another, once again confused at what to do next. His uncle breaks the stalemate. He slaps his new niece on the ass. She colors, but smirks. "Well, boy, kiss your bride. You can look longingly in each other's eyes when you are mounting her. It is time for the drinking!"

 _Mandalorian sublety,_ he thinks to himself as his eyes close. As they lose themselves in each other.

~+~+~+~+~+

The groom palms the door to the small cabin in the shuttle open, while trying not to drop the slight figure of his bride. She laughs at him, then reaches up to touch his lips to hers.

For about the fiftieth time since they had been married. They turn their heads. Their eyes lock on the room, then one another. Where there had been two sets of bunk beds, there was now one full sized bed across the cabin. He lays her gently on the bed. She removes the wide sash at her waist and hips as he undresses. 

His bride grasps him and pulls him to her. There is little preamble as their lips find each other. He lifts the front of the bridal gown and slides into her.

Later, as they lay naked and sweat-soaked in each other's arms, J'ohlana sits up. She pulls him up with her and walks out into the common area, where their weapons are kept. She opens a locker. "Got you something else. Made it actually." Hanging from a hook is a work of art for a protector. A full suit of _beskar'gam_ ; where he had made do with the clonetrooper surplus and cobbled together bits of Mando iron. Armor in the colors of his heritage. _Beskar_ infused cloth in the suit. He sits, unable to speak. When he finds his voice, he says. "Jo, this is beautiful. This is expensive as hell. You didn't...."

"What the hell kind of smith do you think I am, if I let my _riduur_ walk around looking like a ragbag Mando?" She reaches down and kisses him.

"Well, I got you something, too," he says with unfamiliar shyness. He thumbs open a small locker. He pulls a wooden box out and hands it to her. "It is certainly nothing that compares to what you got me, but it is from my heritage."

She sits next to him and gingerly opens the box. Nestled in velvet is a large blaster. She recognizes it as a twin of one that is usually found on the nerf-leather belt on his hips.

A Blastech DL-44. The heavy Corellian blaster. With one difference from his. An additional piece sits in the box. "May I?" he asks. She nods. He takes the extra piece and snaps it into the grip.

A small, powerful carbine now sits in his hands. He passes it to her. "I know you have your Westar and your _beskad,_ " he says, "But I thought you could use some extra firepower."

Both gifts are forgotten as she straddles him and sinks down onto him. The light expands.

**The Present**

Croft comes fully awake. He sits up, blinking away the tears from his memories. He gets up and walks into the outer cabin. He walks over to a small locked compartment. He thumbs the small pad next to it. It opens without incident.

On top of a wooden box, a small device with a single finger-pad rests. He picks up the device, takes a deep breath and thumbs it.

A computer screen activates on the bulkhead. A diagram and a set of numbers and letters pop onto the screen.

A set of numbers and letters that form coordinates for a location. He opens the navicomputer. The device whirs and clicks. It spits out a location in a sector in the Expansion Region.

The Bonu-Delan sector. Specifically in the Bonu system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riduur - (Mando'a) mate, spouse.


	10. Orikih

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Saleucami contingent prepares for battle.
> 
> The new spymaster of Corellia has lunch with a troll.
> 
> A Fixer puts her war face on.

The man collapses on the bed as he and his wife struggle for breath. The steam in the air of the bedroom wafts over them. The woman is able to bring herself up to her elbow. 

She lets her lekku run over his chest in a familiar motion. Familiar after nearly eight years of marriage. Suu smiles devilishly as she runs her tongue over his sweat-slicked chest. She closes her eyes at the salt-taste, as well as the look she sees in his eyes.

A familiar look of love; but one that has something to say.

"You're going with him aren't you," she says. It is not a question. He looks into her eyes. She curses. "Goddamn him." she says softly. He silences her with his lips "No, my love. It is not him. It is me," he replies. He moves his head to her chest. 

"I have to help them with Gregor. No matter what I say. No matter what you say, I did leave my brothers." 

"No..." she starts. "I have to do this, Suu. Gregor is part of our family. I have always said that I wouldn't fight a war, but I will fight and kill for my family."

She says nothing. "What happens to us if you don't come back, Cut? What about your children? The woman who takes you between her legs and wishes every time that you can start new life in her? But who is happy just to wake up next to you every morning."

His eyes tear. "I don't know. I haven't figured that out, yet."

They both silent. Their thoughts can almost be read by the other. 

She rests her forehead on his. "Do you think that Croft intends on coming back? Is he on some sort of redemption mission. One that he pays for Jo's death with his?"

He sighs. He lifts his hands up to his graying hair, running them through it. Suu's heart leaps at the familiar gesture. She kisses his chest; waiting for his answer. He shakes his head. "No. Rex and I talked. He doesn't think that he wants to die. Maybe a few months ago, right after she died." He grins. "Hell, according to what Rex found out from his employer, he has already tried to drink and screw himself to death. Not to mention some of those jobs he took. Jobs in Jo's spirit, but could've very easily killed him."

"I am glad. I don't think it is time for him to rest next to Jo. I know she wouldn't want it."

She eyes him as he continues. "Rex seems to think that he is only here to get Gregor. He may find something else to do when this is over. Don't know what, though."

"I wish that he would come here," Suu says. "He needs his family. We are the closest thing he has, except maybe that asshole Shysa."

Cut shakes his head. "He won't come here for more than a few days. He is a Jedi. He could bring death and destruction to us all. At least that is how he thinks and feels."

She kisses him gently. "I love you Cut Lawquane. Come back to me. All of you come back to me. Even if it is just long enough for me to see that they are alive."

"I will, Suu Lawquane. I love you, too."

She pulls him in tighter. "You do what you have to do, Cut. For your brother. For the younglings' uncle. We will be here waiting on you."

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft completes the checklist on the old shuttle. He smiles. _Suu kept everything in running order._ He hears noise from below. His smile turns rueful. He would have been fine if Rex had stayed comfortably ensconced in Thyla's arms and legs.

He punches the button to send the pilot's chairs down to the ramp compartment. Three sets of eyes watch him expectantly.

Another three sets behind him. He stands up, his own eyes growing thunderous. "Hell no. You two can turn the fuck around and walk down that ramp." He grits his teeth as neither gives any indication of obeying him. He shoves past them to complete his walk around inspection. They hear his raised, pleading voice behind them. 

"Suu, please. I don't want them hurt. Please talk to them. Especially Cut."

Thyla and Cut turn and walk down the ramp, just in time to see Suu put her fingers on his lips. "Shh, Tal, my love. I can't talk Cut out of something he thinks he needs to do. As for my new sister," Thyla starts at that description, "well, let's just say you aren't the only self-sacrificing idiot here."

She reaches up and replaces her fingers with her lips. "You come back to us, Storm-King. We'll be here." She grabs his shirt with her fist. "I don't mean in a bag either," she says fiercely. "I am not ready to dig another hole in this ground."

She smiles. "I don't have to tell you to look out for Cut. He can take care of himself. Plus, from what I hear of you, that was never an issue. You always took care of your brothers."

He nods. "I will see you soon, Suu. He walks over to where Cut and Rex are saying goodbye to the kids. Without a word, Croft pulls Shaeeah and Jek into his arms. They squeeze him tightly.

As he stands up, he sees Thyla talking to Suu. He walks over. Maybe he can try one more time. As he walks up, he sees Thyla hand a datacard to the lighter-skinned Twi'lek. "This has about 20,000 on it. It is all clean. If I don't come back, it is all yours."

The two women look at each other. "The title to that ship I am leaving is on here as well, as well as the name and comm frequency of someone who will help you get the max price from it. You can either keep the ship and leave here or get another 50,000 out of it."

"Thyla, don't you have family?"

The pilot smiles sadly. "No. My family is dead. Or they can provide for themselves." She sees a blue-skinned Pantoran, her tears spilling from her bronze eyes as she tells her she needs a break from a loving pirate crew.

She pulls off her bindings. She kisses Suu; the tips of their lekku twining in the manner of family. 

Thyla breaks away from her and turns to Croft. "You don't have to do this, Thy," he says. "I have already cost you your brother. I can't live with you getting hurt."

"Not your choice, Tal." she says. "And no, you didn't cost me Thorin. Those bastards who killed your Master and tried to kill you, or more correctly, the ones who compelled them to, killed him."

Once again, an angry Twi'lek grabs his shirt collar. "I won't ever say it again, Croft. You didn't kill Thorin."

As she is turning, he tries one last time. "Lassa will shoot me if anything happens to you."

She turns to him with a smirk. "Tal, she is already going to shoot you. You might as well reserve your bacta tank."

He shakes his head. "Well, if everybody is through busting my balls, let's go. The coordinates aren't specific. We have about ten square AU to search for our target and about twenty hours in hyperspace before that."

A mother and her children watch the battered shuttle lift off and turn to the atmosphere. The two children see tears welling in their mother's blue eyes.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan walks from the docking bay. She lifts her hand to the shuttle pilots who have brought her to the center of the Five Brothers. She sees a young CorSec officer start to walk over to her from an aircar. The young Deputy walks up and salutes her. She nods as she is not in uniform. "Deputy Helm, ma'am. The Dra-, the Procurator sent me to get you and bring you to his office."

She smiles. "Pleased to meet you, Deputy. Do you have a first name?" He looks down, flustered. His rather large ears flush bright red, clashing with the purple of his beret. _What is he, twelve?_ she thinks. He searches for his voice, as he unconsciously pulls at his collar. _Oops, better turn down the thoughts of last night; Tome and the resonance. The poor boy might rupture something._

She sees him relax a bit. "My name is Sylvanus, Inspector, but everybody calls me Obie." he finally gets out. Dani smiles slightly at the name. She holds out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Obie Helm. If you can, please take my bag to the office. I will come along later." She smiles winningly at him. "I am not going to the office. I will walk."

"But I..." Dani holds up her hand. "No. That is why I am walking so that you don't have to disobey the Dragon's order. I can imagine what he said. Her smile transforms into a mischievous grin. "Tell her to get her ass to this office, post-haste," she says in a credible imitation of the reptile's gravelly, but cultured voice, "if you don't, don't bother coming back. Ever."

In spite of his nervousness, he grins. "Pretty close, right down to the 'post-haste,' and the accent," he says. 

"It's one of his favorite phrases. You go on. I'll be along, after I take care of some business. Business that he is going to send me on, anyway."

"But I don't want to go back to Traffic. I just got rid of that white hat." 

"No buts, Obie. Tell the Dragon that I ordered you to go without me." Her eyes laugh, even as her face is serious. "He will say that you should've used force. Tell him that I told you that wouldn't have worked for me. Don't worry, you'll keep the purple." The Inspector smirks. "Unless you exchange it for the black hat of Selonia."

Dani watches the aircar gain altitude and join the traffic pattern. As she begins her walk, she marvels at the change in her energy levels in one day. _Guess it helps a girl to have a purpose, now,_ she thinks. _Either that or spending the night in someone's arms._

 _Probably both, my heart,_ a lightly accented voice says in her head.

Dani does not disagree with the voice of the huntress.

She remembers being awoken by insistent fingers and lips as the light had cascaded again. She remembers Kris' words as they parted at the door. _I know we may not see each other again, Dani, but it is good to see the laughter in those eyes again. To see the life._

Dani's heart rises as she thinks of her life and the people in it. It rises also at the hope that another who had touched her, as well as her heart-bond will be found alive.

~+~+~+~+~+~

Dani stands outside of another door. A door in a beautiful but ordinary house. A House that she had spent quite a bit of time in; digging for information. She smiles softly. _As well as dodging a few gropes here and there from the resident of this room. Didn't dodge too hard, though, sometimes._

She opens the door. She sees the object of her warmth standing on a stool, playing with multiple datapads and computers, while listening to music through headphones. His head pops up and he freezes as he feels both her resonance and his own rusty, minimal Force powers. He turns and removes his earbuds.

The look in Phygus Baldrick's eyes overwhelms her. There is none of the perverted glint that is usually seen when they are snarking at one another. She feels her feet moving quickly to him.

Their tears dampen each other's shoulders as they hold each other tightly against the death and darkness.

~+~+~+~+~+

Phygus watches her fondly as she eats her third _shura_ pastry. "So what have you been doing, sweetie, to need all of that chow?"

"I am sure that you are imagining what I was doing, little man," she snarks. 

"You know it, Toots, but there was a different actor making you scream in that little drama."

"That will be the only way you will make me scream in anything other than anger, Squirt."

He smirks as she daintily licks her fingers of the remnants of the spicy meat pastry. She wipes her mouth with a napkin, then reaches over and kisses him gently. "It is so damned good to see you, you perverted little troll." He tastes the spice as he closes his eyes. _She is alive and getting healthy. That is a rare triumph these days._

He returns the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. She feels the smirk. "Nice view of your boobs."

She pushes him away. But not too hard. 

They fall silent, just existing after the cauldron of the last years. "How are you, Dani? Draq´ was so worried."

"I'm living, Phygus. Which is more than I can say yesterday."

He smiles gently. "I know, the Dragon has probably told you this, but your heart-bond would not want you to be like this," he says gesturing at the disappearing circles under her eyes. 

His own eyes track to his feet, dangling from the park bench. "I cannot imagine a universe without her," he whispers. "She fought for me, so hard, when I fucked up. She fought for me to stay a Jedi. Even when I didn't give a shit about staying; only about Tal....."

He stops and looks in her darkening eyes. "Dragon told you what I told him, right?" She nods, taking his hand in hers. "He told me that he thinks that Ta.....that the Covenant is alive."

He smiles. "It's okay, sweetie. Reason I like this place for lunch is because it is fairly open, but with trees around it that I can bounce the waves off with this. He lifts his jacket and points to the small device on his belt. "Portable isolation device. Anyone listening in with assistive devices will only get static. Anyone who can hear in this range will be very uncomfortable." 

"It is interesting that you use the title. As you may know, Draq´had me build him a legend from almost birth. A legend that had him staying in Covenant House in the Program and becoming a CorSec deep cover Ranger." He does not have to explain why it feels like the Program has the emphasis it does. There is only one Program that matters in all of Corellia. At least to its security.

Of course, the fact that she had gone through four years of it, herself, from age sixteen to twenty while attending University had absolutely nothing to do with it. 

_Of course the old bastard made me be a cop before I could be a Ranger,_ Dani thinks with a fond smile. 

Baldrick idly tosses pieces of pastry to the flying rodents that populate every open space in Coronet City. She waits for him. He smiles. "His name is now Bryne Covenant, by the way."

"Nothing blatant, there." she says. 

"Not too blatant. Lots of people who went through even the orphanage portion and chose not to go into the Program named themselves after it."

She nods. "So where did you get the first name?" A mischievous grin splits his face. "There is where the creativity comes in. I was researching another of his heritages. The hunting one, when I came across an ad in Togruti that hit me." The grin grows. "Especially with what is common knowledge that he thinks with, given his early propensity for plowing through the Padawan population in his younger days."

"Phygus.....," she says, a hint of warning in her voice. "What did you do?"

"Well, I did think about his cooking skills, too."

"Phygus....," she repeats. 

"I named him for the Togruta diminutive of a brand of breakfast sausage on Shili."

She tries to roll her eyes as the laughter bubbles forth. She is wiping her eyes and catching her breath as she speaks again. "I don't know if I want to be around when he finds out. I don't think you can run that fast."

"I wouldn't laugh too hard, Red. Your signature is on the authorization of personnel action."

"Marvelous."

"Well, I figured since you had first-hand experience with the sausage in question...."

He suddenly finds himself sitting on the ground next to the bench. Or actually, sprawling. _It was worth it, to see and hear the unbridled laughter from her,_ he thinks. She offers him a hand back up to the bench.

The smile is still on her face. "I like to think that I taught him to use it a little better." They both sober. They still don't know if he is alive. "So why do you think that he is still alive? Do you feel him in the Force?"

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "You're giving me too much credit, dear. My connection to the Force is shitty at best." He grows serious. "I did feel the Jedi die. I didn't feel him die. I just don't feel him alive, either."

She takes his hand in hers; rubs the back of it. He closes his eyes as he feels the warmth and comfort. The pain eases. "That doesn't mean anything, Daaineran. He has incredible shielding in the Force; it is why he was selected for Shadow."

"There is another reason." He grows pensive. "I need you not to tell this to Draq´, Dani. At least not now. I will tell him, after we find him alive."

After a moment, Dani nods. "Since the Fall, I have been working some side gigs. Some paying, some not. Working for people who want to put their thumbs in the eye of the Empire."

He looks her in the eye. He laughs quietly. "I say, don't tell the Dragon, but I think that he already knows. He hasn't said anything because, while these side jobs might not be sanctioned by the government of the Five Brothers, they are by his values and moral code."

She nods, having been exposed to those values and code for most of her life, in one way or another. "There was a contact about a year and a half ago. The contact was interested in former clonetroopers who have been cast aside by the Empire, or even outright sold into slavery. This movement, wanted to rehabilitate them in some way - not sure how and try to help them build a new life."

He takes a sip of his water. "It was a small movement, no more than two or three. They had good operational security, which leads me to believe they were clones or other ex-military. They called themselves the _Vod'e An_ movement." 

He sees her questioning look. "It is Mando'a for 'Brothers All," he explains. "You saw the part about the Storm-King, right?"

"Yeah. Something about fighting multiple opponents and melee style."

The little slicer nods. "It tripped a memory. Of watching Tal spar." He smiles at a fond memory. "Actually, it wasn't really a spar. He was teaching a lesson. One that the Council would not have approved of."

"He was taking care of some fellow clan-masters who had allowed some of their senior initiates to mess with his younger and smaller younglings. There were six in particular. Insufferable pricks, all of them."

His smile grows. "He wiped the floor with him. There was something about him. There was no anger; just purpose. Purpose that said that they would not get away with messing with those who he protected." Dani is silent, but there is a tiny bit of hope in her heart hearing these words, rather than reading the dry prose.

"Something about the report of the fighting style, even though it was different struck me. Don't get me wrong," he says, "Jedi fight multiple opponents as a matter of course. There was just something different about how he fought that day. Plus the fact that this report indicated it was a combination of blaster and hand-to-hand."

He grins ruefully. "Boss, I can't put my finger on it. It is just a gut feeling."

"The Dragon trusts your gut, as a matter of course, even though he blusters and struts about throwing you out on your teeny ass." The Zeltron runs her fingers through his hair. "And so do I, little man."

His eyes smile before the rest of his face. He grows somber. "I haven't found all of the info, but all contact was broken off with this movement around six months ago. There was a rumor of a trap sprung and one of the members died." He hears her intake of breath.

"According to Darknet rumors, it was the leader. Not my contact, but a Mando woman. A Mando woman and her unborn child." He doesn't look at the empath as her eyes tear.

"I do have a contact on Mandalore, or at least near there. You know him, as well."

She closes her eyes. "Fenn Shy'sa."

"Got it in one, sweetie." The officer gives a crooked, bittersweet smile at the memories of Tal's uncle and his Mando trainers on Kamino. The warm green eyes that were so familiar to her, but looked out from a slightly different face.

"He is kind of in exile, since he opposes the Empire. Things are still chaotic since the end of the war and the Sieges." He grows silent as he thinks of the deaths he had heard about from that time.

Most probably, a young huntress close to his little brother. His hunt-sister, as he called her.

"See if you can set up a meet. Guess I will go to Mandalore," Dani says.

She notices his darkening expression. "There is one thing, Inspector."

"What is it, Phygus?"

"You remember the ISB notation on the file I gave you?" 

"Yeah?" 

"The Dragon had me leak the legend. To get it out there. With the premise that Bryne is missing." She raises her eyebrow. "There was a hit on the security software. With that ISB agent's code on it. I am trying to track his movements."

Dani listens intently. "He is a relatively senior agent, as indicated by his credential number. He has a roving portfolio, with assignment from the Deputy Director."

"Who is he?" she asks.

"His name is Dav Kolan. He may be trying to find him. Either because he thinks he has run afoul of some Imperial law. Or worse yet..." He pauses.

"He is trying to recruit him."

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola Vorserrie dries her wet hair with the towel. Her mind moves to why she is resurrecting old Handmaiden skills.

One Ahsoka Tano. Also known as Fulcrum.

Known to Nola Vorserrie, former Handmaiden of Naboo as her pain in the ass.

When the operative had come up with the idea of putting herself undercover in the refugee camp that Selda and the Bothans had told her about, Nola had cursed and called Tano an idiot to her face.

The huntress' smartass little droid had seconded the appellation. Tano had grown quiet, which usually meant that she had her head set on something.

To the point of insanity. 

In the end, she had agreed to Tano's plan, but not without a great deal of argument. Tano had grown less calm and less serene Jedi-like.

Something that she had probably always struggled with. 

In the end, Nola had relented. Because she was there for support.

Even though it killed her a little bit every time the young operative came up with one of these crazy-ass schemes.

That was until she had failed to check-in with the system they had devised. Of course, Tano had missed check-ins before; if it was too risky.

Or if it interfered with her hunting of small rodents, or something equally important to her.

She had not been in Imperial hands before.

She feels a pair of strong hands take the towel from her and finish drying her hair. The dark towel no longer runs blonde after this washing.

She sighs and looks into the mirror. A woman with messy blonde short cropped hair, where a chestnut bob and dark eyes had looked out at her, stares back at her with piercing green eyes.

Makeup had softened her sharp, but beautiful features into something slightly altered.

She feels the strong hands drop the towel and pull her around.

Queen Breha of Alderaan takes Nola's hands in hers. They share a silent conversation with their eyes, as Breha tries to suppress the worried look in her eyes.

Tries and fails, just as Nola knows that she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orikih - (Mando'a) Tiny


	11. Tegaanalir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, who is rescuing who?

A quiet song slides into Ahsoka's consciousness. A beautiful voice, singing in the trills of her birth-language.

The lullaby for a young huntress. 

Ahsoka clinches her teeth as another wave of pain moves through her head from front to back. She winces as her carnivore's teeth lance into her lip. She centers herself on the calm lullaby. The warm, wet cloth moving over her forehead doesn't hurt either. She slowly opens her eyes.

A near-familiar face looks down at her. The woman stops singing, her golden features marked by worry. Ahsoka can see the woman's own marks of pain in her light blue, almost pastel eyes. She fights to raise her head.

The unknown, _no, I know her,_ woman slides her hand under Ahsoka's neck, careful not to touch the center lek. She lifts her up and brings a cup of water to the young warrior's lips. She drinks greedily. "I know you," she rasps. The woman's features are softened by her smile.

"You should, young one. You saved my life. You and your fellow warriors saved my people."

The images rush back to Ahsoka in a flash of light. The lightness of the woman in her arms. The smile that they give each other as she puts her down. "I am sorry. I never learned your name."

"You had no reason to, Ahsoka," the woman whispers, so that only they can hear. "My name is Dala Ti."

She sees the young ex-Jedi's blue eyes widen in recognition. Then look down at the memories. Memories of a hunt. A serene countenance. Her eyes close. 

The same warm grin that has intruded into her consciousness more and more in the last weeks.

She grimaces, but controls her expression. "Yes, I am of the same clan as your Jedi Master, but not the same kinfast," Dala says. "She was a great pride to us."

Ahsoka is silent for a moment. In her mind she sees that same serene countenance watching her as she stood in the center of a pit. _It doesn't matter._

"So what the hell is this? Why did that young man die?"

Dala looks at her. "We don't know. The people who were here before me have said it started almost as soon as they got here." She touches Ahsoka's face. "It hit the youngest first and hardest. I have been having pain for awhile, but it doesn't seem to be as intense as yours. It has hit you the fastest of anyone that I have seen."

"Why are you here, Ahsoka? If you are trying a rescue, this is not exactly the way to do it." Dala smiles gently. "I found that out pretty quick."

"What do you mean, Dala?" Ahsoka asks. The older woman smiles gently. "Because a beautiful, strong young warrior saved my life and showed me I can help my people." Ahsoka looks down. "Yeah, well. Probably shouldn't have used my example. Ain't exactly been a success since then."

"We heard about your trial, young one. We didn't believe that you could murder anyone. We never did. When the Jedi died, I realized that I couldn't depend on anyone else to help the people of Kiros."

She sees Ahsoka's face contort in pain as another wave strikes her. Dala seizes her and holds her until the tremors pass. She takes a chance and gently caresses the center lek. An intimate, but not arousing touch. The huntress relaxes. Between gasps, Ahsoka says, "Go on, Dala. I'm listening."

"I became involved with trying to get my fellow Kirosians out of refugee camps. They are dying in them." She touches Ahsoka's cheek with her other hand. "You know as well as I do that we don't do well being penned in." She feels the younger woman nod. "I have been somewhat successful. Until now."

"How did you hear about this place?" Ahsoka asks. 

"Someone who has been a friend to my efforts heard something on the Darknet. It led me here."

She pushes Ahsoka off of her shoulder and looks at the rebel. "I don't think this is a refugee camp, Ahsoka. I think that they want us to die."

"Then we need to fight." Ahsoka tries to stand; collapses against the older woman. "Oh, yes. Let's just run out there and declare war, dear." Dala says with a smirk. "Nobody, even those not afflicted as bad has any energy. We are fed enough, but something is working against us. Sapping our energy."

"Help me up," the young warrior says. 

"Ahsoka, you need to conserve your energy. You are the youngest left."

"Doesn't matter. I came here to find someone. Someone, who, like you came here voluntarily to help. A human; an Alderaani." She takes a deep breath. "I have to do something. It is what I was born to do, Dala."

Dala's eyes tear as she watches the girl close her eyes. Dala sees her breathing ease. The older Togruta can feel energy building, almost sparking from the Jedi. The bright blue eyes snap open. Dala nods. "I think I can help you with that. I think that my friend is who you are looking for. He has found his way here, and he used some type of high-level authorization to work in the medcenter."

Ahsoka stands up. She only sways for a moment before steadying. "I need to get to him. I need to get him out before the Imperials figure out who he is. There could be bad things happening if they do."

She notices Dala looking down. She touches the woman's cheek. "Don't worry, Dala. I won't leave you and the others behind. I will figure out something." She bares her teeth. Dala is struck by the sheer predatory beauty of the act. "What good are dealing with the big bad things, if I don't deal with the smaller ones?" Ahsoka says. Dala takes the young woman's hands in hers. "I'll take you to the medcenter. Besides," she says with a grin, "it's where only the worst cases go, anyway. I think that you qualify."

The eyeroll could be felt throughout the camp. "Of course, nobody comes out of there alive," Dala finishes. 

"Thanks for the encouragement. By the way, if anyone asks, my name is Ashla. Ahsoka Tano is already sorta dead."

The young ex-Jedi is strong as they walk out, but she leans on the older woman anyway.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lieutenant Commander Jace Taum kicks the Togruta out of the way as he stalks through the camp. His Fleet troopers avoid him as they see the thunder on his face. The communication that he has just received, along with bona fides, are the reason for his disgust. He stops at the landing field. A shuttle sits on the pad.

A _Lambda_ -class shuttle with the crest of the Imperial Senate. He stops at the ramp. _Goddamned Senatorial do-gooders._ He looks forward to the day that the Emperor finally sees the light and wipes away the last vestiges of the Republic as the scourge that it was.

Taum stops as he sees a figure walking down the ramp. He puts on his best neutral-I-don't-give-a-shit-that-you-have-power expression. His eyes widen as he sees the tall, trim figure duck under the nose of the shuttle and walk towards him.

He suddenly loses his carefully constructed expression as he examines her. Up and down. He takes in the messy blonde crop and the piercing green eyes.

For about half a second, as his eyes track elsewhere.

He is very conscious of his grubby working blacks. He lifts his cap and slicks back his hair. He doesn't see the tall woman stop mid-eyeroll, then smile her winningest smile.

It is a chore as the officer's eyes linger on her chest. "Commander, my name is Verse. Taila Verse." She holds out his hand. He tears his eyes away from his perusal of her chest. 

Ms. Verse hides her wince at his clammy hand. "I am the personal representative of Senator Garm Bel Iblis, of the Sentient Rights Committee."

His eyes narrow. "I have heard of Bel Iblis, but not that committee. I am assuming you will have orders and credentials that will allow you to come in and disrupt my operations and get my internees riled up for nothing."

The woman stares at him. To his credit, he does blanch at her stare. "I am here to satisfy my superiors in the Senate that proper procedures for the handling of refugees is followed, in accordance with Imperial mandates. If I have to disrupt your operations, I will." she says, icily.

He blanches, but he relaxes. _She doesn't have any real power. She can only report._

Taum sighs. "Do what you need to do, Ms. Verse, but stay out of my way." He checks his datapad. "I don't have anyone to spare. Stay out of those savages' enclosure. They may just tear you apart and eat you." He smirks. "You won't be able to be a 'do-gooder' then."

The woman walks over and places her hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Commander. I can take care of myself. I won't be a bother to you or your brave troops."

She leans in closely. "Do you think that I might be able to talk to you in private at some point? The people that I represent might have an intriguing business opportunity for you. If you have thought about retirement." She smiles broadly. She runs her fingers over his hand. "Although I am certain that you are much too young to consider retirement," she says.

The officer pulls himself to his full height and swells. "We can talk here," he says, jerking his head at the troopers. They turn and leave the area as if jerked by a rope.

"I don't just represent the Senate, my dear Commander. Some very important partners in the Corellian system have engaged me to find sources of inexpensive labor. I am authorized to pay a rather hefty finder's fee to anyone that might, shall we say, point us in the right direction."

He is pensive for a moment. As much as someone with his face can be pensive. "I don't know, Ms. Verse. These are not exactly sterling specimens. Togruta are lazy and weak anyway. There may not be any left by the time that you are able to." He doesn't see the woman's eyes grow hard. _Maybe you just haven't met the right Togruta, asshole,_ she thinks to herself. She smiles again to cover the look that escaped.

"Perhaps after I finish my look around, we could talk further, Commander?" Her hand lingers on his. "Some place more.....intimate?" 

The look of lust in his eyes nearly makes her puke. "I would like that, Ms. Verse." he says. "Oh, please call me, Taila, Commander."

As the Imperial nearly skips back to his office, Nola Vorrserrie drops her smile. _I really suck at flirting with scumbags,_ she thinks. _But I am certainly better at it with targets than a certain huntress. She is only good at it with her friends. Guess it is good I had those handmaiden undercover classes._

She smirks as she walks away to start her look around. _I've seen her try to act. She would rather pull a blade or a blaster._ Her smirk changes to a fond smile. She thinks something that she often comes to mind about her 'responsibility,' at least to herself. _Wouldn't have it any other way, sis._

She turns and walks back to the compounds. She is not challenged by any of the guards. They appear to all be Fleet troopers - standard shipboard security forces in their oval helmets and light armor. Only the troops in the towers are equipped with anything more powerful than heavy blaster pistols.

She sees no stormtroopers, but that doesn't mean they aren't around. _Could be a quick-reaction force; able to respond to anything,_ she thinks.

That could put a crimp in any rescue plans. She notices several large tank-like devices spaced evenly around the Togruta compound, as well as the human compound. On top of each device is a very large nozzle. She watches the nozzle carefully. Nola listens closely. As she does, a vapor-like cloud is emitted. She counts the seconds. A five second burst into both camps. The cloud rolls over the compound, then appears to dissipate. 

The young Naboo watches the emitters with narrowed eyes. Four minutes after the emitters stopped, another five second burst escapes.

She looks closely into the compounds. Not many Togruta can be seen. They appear to all be in the few large tents situated inside the compound. Her eyes widen. She sees several figures lying on the ground. They appear to not be moving. 

Nola stops counting after two dozen. She switches her vision to the other compound. Humans are walking around. She curses to herself as she sees them wandering in circles. She looks closely at them.

They are all identical. Identical to those troops who had protected her during her ill-fated expedition to a desert world. Identical to the one that had shared her Separatist cell, his dead eyes and the hole in his forehead screaming at her failure. A lifetime ago.

They are clones. She only counts five. She walks over to the energy fencing. She tries to draw the attention of one.

He ignores her and continues in his endless march. She hears a roar from the horizon. She turns in time to see an _Arquitens_ class light cruiser slowly making its way to the ground. To the landing field that she had departed, no more than an hour before.

The clones don't appear to notice. She remembers a quick read over her desk of the use docilizers in Imperial prison. Gas or injections that render, as the name suggests, the population docile and easy to manage.

_Why is it being used in a refugee camp? Why are clones here, anyway?_

Nola's anger grows. She follows the example of her huntress. She calms. She checks her own thought processes. _How long before it affects me?_

The former Handmaiden idly grabs her right bicep as she thinks. A sharp pain brings a memory. A memory of instructions that had come with her credentials. An instruction to receive a certain vaccination against a local bug. She had thought little of it at the time; had received the vaccine from her doctor. She seizes her comm and brings up the message. Her eyes light as she finds the name. 

Nola looks up and sees the cruiser flare for a landing, as the light fades. She checks the time. She smiles; a smile that would do her sister, a carnivore and predator in her own right, great credit.

_Time for my date._

~+~+~+~+~+

Dala feels her young warrior grow weaker as they approach the Imperial compound. She can feel Ahsoka touching her energy field every few steps against the weakness and overwhelming pain.

Her eyes tear. She is growing weaker every time she calls on it. It is as if she can feel a surge of strength every few steps, followed by more weakness. "Ahsoka, honey, you have to stop with the Force. It is making you weaker," she implores.

"Have to keep going, Dala," comes the whisper against her right lek. "Have to find Antilles."

The pair stops at the gate to the compound. A pair of Imperials looks at them without expression. "What do you want, tailhead?" one growls. She feels Ahsoka tense against her. She sends a silent entreaty to the warrior to let it go.

"My friend is sick, Lord," she says. "She is dying." She doesn't have to fake the tears streaming down her cheeks. At her side, Ahsoka has closed her eyes. She realizes she is holding up dead weight. 

Dala can only hope she is not being literal. The other trooper sneers at her. "If she is dying, then what does need to see the medic?" Their laughter cuts through Dala. 

She feels Ahsoka lift her head. She lifts her right hand; the one that is free. Her voice is barely a whisper, but clear as a bell. She waves her hand at the troopers. "You need to let us pass. You need to let me into the medcenter." Dala's eyes widen as she hears the troopers repeat Ahsoka's words.

There is a moment of silence. Then the comedian, the one who had started the laughter activates the gate. She walks through hurriedly. As she passes them, she sees a mischievous grin cross Ahsoka's pale features.

"You need to go back to your quarters and stun each other." 

The troopers dutifully repeat the mantra and walk away.

Dala is awestruck. "That was incredible, Ahsoka. You are........" 

She can't find the words. She does smirk at the last instruction. "Really, girl? Stun each other?"

"Well, it was better than my first thought," the young ex-Jedi whispers. "I thought that they made a cute couple."

Dala Ti does something she has not done since she came to this hellhole. She laughs. 

The laughter stills as she realizes that her companion has lapsed into insensibility.  
Her tears flow again, as she pushes the button for entrance to the medcenter.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dek Antilles, scion of an Elder House on the peaceful world of Alderaan, medical and genetics genius, is seriously considering murder, as he clicks off the holocomm. Taum's arrogant face disappears. Dek had merely asked for the thousandth time to go into the Togruta compound and try to treat all of the afflicted, not just the worst cases that were admitted to the infirmary.

"We will keep the arrangement as is, Doctor Bentick," said the naval officer, using Dek's alias. "Only the worst cases will be treated, as we are limited in medical supplies."

 _Not too limited if a small warship comes here every two days to a week._

The young geneticist glimpses himself in a mirror. His hazel eyes and their accompanying dark circles stare back at him. He sighs and runs his fingers through his thick black hair. He smiles as he remembers his mother and her sisters marveling at its ravenswing color.

His reverie is broken by the door buzzer. He smiles as he sees who it is. The smile fades as he sees her burden. He buzzes them through.

He helps Dala lift the young woman onto the exam table. He starts his exam. _Twenty or so years old. In excellent condition - very strong. That will help. Already in debilitating pain. Affliction will progress to coma; swelling of brain and eventual catastrophic aneurysm._

He strokes the distinctive markings on the feverish forehead; the delicate wing-markings on the cheek. 

_Beautiful, too._ He sighs again as he lifts his injector. An injector that will allow her to drift into a deep sleep. That will ease the pain until a miracle happens and he can treat the illness, or she drifts away. To join the Pantheon as he has heard others of his patients speak of.

Before they could speak no more.

"Dek, don't let her sleep, just yet. She said she came here looking for you. She mentioned your family," Dala says as she grasps his wrist.

He stares at her. "She said she came from my family?" he asks. "Yes. She is looking for you."

He looks at the young woman. He lays the injector down and picks up another one. "This is a mild stimulant and powerful painkiller. We'll see what she has to say."

He injects the medicine into her neck. "What is her name, Dala?" the young doctor asks.

Dala hesitates for a moment. "Her name is Ahsoka." She makes a further decision. "She was a Jedi."

~+~+~+~+~+

"Hey, Snips, wake up. It's almost time for you and Croft to go find Tocque."

Ahsoka starts awake. She looks into the clear blue eyes of her Master. The scar through his right eye crinkles as he grins at her. "I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep through the battle."

"Sorry, Master," she says sleepily. He extends his gloved right hand. She takes it and pulls up on it. He sits next to her on the cot. "You sure you're ready for this?"

"I'm ready, Skyguy." she says. She sees the worry in his eyes. "Hey," she says, bumping him with her shoulder. "I'll be okay. Croft will watch my back. You might not like him, but he is a good Jedi."

He smiles ruefully. "It's not that. I like him fine. He is probably the best of his age group. But he is not me. You might've been his responsibility when you were in Clawmouse, but you are mine now, little one."

"I know, Master. But he won't stop looking after his Clawmice."

"Even when he is fucking you?"

"Wait, what? No, Master!"

_That is not how that conversation went!_

With a cry, she starts awake, her head coming up from the pillow.

She immediately regrets it as her head explodes.

A warm pair of hands. Warmer than Togruta pushes her gently back down onto the bed.

"Shhh, Ahsoka. You're safe." A pair of warm hazel eyes, over calm, slightly familiar features gaze into hers. She recognizes the face from a holo, as well as in the face of the strong woman who sent her here.

"Dek,"she says. "I am here to rescue you!" She slumps back to the pillow. A smile quirks his face. "How is that working out for you, dear?"

Her eyes pop open as more of the stimulant hits her. "Sorry, Dek," she says ruefully. "Dr. Antilles, Queen Breha sent me..."

Her eyes close again. "Could I have some water?" she asks. He grins and lifts a cup. "Let's try some ice first. I am not into dodging projectile vomiting."

~+~+~+~+~+

Breha Organa sits at the controls of the _Tantive IV_. Raymus Antilles, generally the Captain and pilot of the Organa vessel watches her with amusement.

They sit here drifting in open space. On the edge of the Delan system. Within easy reach of the Bonu system.

"So, Your Majesty, tell me again what we are doing here?"

Breha sighs and grits her teeth. "As I said, Captain, I felt the urge to get out of the Palace. Wanted to practice my flying a bit."

"In a system hundreds of parsecs from the Core."

"Seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"Could you also tell me why you feel the need to wear a blaster, as well as why I seem to have extra crew on board, all of them armed to the teeth?"

"Nope."

_Okay. To the point._

"Is the Viceroy going to come down on me like a dreadnought landed on me?" he asks, an edge to his voice.

She matches his edge. "You let me worry about _my consort,"_ she says drily.

She turns away from him to run readings on that console. Antilles sighs and gives up.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka focuses on Dek Antilles once again. The pain is still there, but seems to have subsided a tiny bit. "By rights, with the pain that you are enduring, you should be dead right now."

She smirks. "What can I say, Doc? I come from good stock." She can almost hear the eyeroll from the older woman. "Yes, Doc, but she comes from the Tanos. Everyone in their clan are smartasses. It is well known on our world."

Dek laughs briefly. He looks down. Ahsoka motions to Dala to help her sit up.

She is able to with a minimum of pain and no vomiting from the room spinning. She touches Dek's face. He looks up at her. "Why are you here, Dek?" she asks gently. 

He is a time answering. Ahsoka busies herself with more ice. "I have done something inadvertently that has put me on the Empire's radar."

Ahsoka listens. "I thought I was doing good. Research that can help millions in the multiplication and duplication of vaccines that are needed. But one goddamned section. One goddamned section about cloning and the Empire is ready to pervert the research."

She touches his hand with her cooler one. "Dek, you aren't responsible for how someone perverts your work. You couldn't have known."

"That is where you are wrong, Ahsoka. I knew it was in there. I knew what the Empire could do, having seen what a democracy like the Republic could do when its back was against the wall."

"Hell, if what Dala says is true, you experienced it first hand. With your _Vod'e._

Idly, she wonders where he had heard that term. She grimaces as the pain builds again. She changes the subject slightly. "Why are you here, on Delan XV?"

He smiles. "Thought I could do some good. I had seen some info on the Darknet on widespread illness among Togruta in this sector. It was kind of vague, but it put me in touch with Dala. She confirmed it and told me she was headed here to see for herself."

He looks her in the eye. As she gazes at him, she notices that he has a small pie-shaped mote of blue in his hazel eye. She focuses on it as the pain builds again. "I used some contacts that I had to get authorization to be here. I thought maybe I could help out." His gaze grows steely. Ahsoka smiles as she thinks where she has seen that before. "Contacts other than those that have my family name."

"Why, Dek? I know you had some differences with your family on the Empire, but they would've helped you in a heartbeat, if it meant saving lives." she says.

"No!" he shouts. He immediately calms. "I don't want them involved. I know that they are involved with other things against the Empire, but I felt this was too dangerous."

She lets that go. _Try living my life, bud, for five minutes._

"Ahsoka, I have an idea of what is causing your pain. I am only let at about ten minutes at a time, once every four hours. But I did see some sort of emitter system throughout the compound. I think that they are spraying some sort of docilizer."

"So? The Empire uses them all the time in prisons. We can agree on the morality or lack thereof...."

"You don't understand. I think that the docilizer is killing your people." He takes her hand. "I think it is killing you, Ahsoka."

She slumps back on the pillow. The revelation of what he has said sends her reeling again. She reaches up to her montral.

For the first time in recent memory, a metal ring caps the organ. A ring with a small bauble attached. Dek sees what she is reaching for. He assists her in removing it. He can see that she is fading again. 

She twists it and manages to bring it up to her lips. "Princess. Listen to Dek. He..."

Ahsoka goes limp.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola Vorserrie clinches her teeth as the Imperial officer's hand slides up her thigh. His other paws at her chest. She struggles not to break anything as his fingers reach the junction of her legs. Fortunately, his face is engaged in kissing her neck, or he would see the distaste his attempts at seduction are engendering.

_Clumsy? I've had teenaged boys with more artfulness than this._

She hears a familiar voice in the earpiece in her ear. Her eyes flash with fire as she hears the familiar voice fade. Her manufactured moans stop.

"Taila, what....?" She reaches up with her left hand and places the palm against his forehead.

She pushes and slams the back of his head against the dining room table. Several times.

He collapses bonelessly. She checks his tunic and pulls the single code cylinder from his chest pocket. She straightens her shirt and lifts the blaster from his belt. She drops the power cell and throws it and the weapon across the room in opposite directions. She picks up her daypack and pulls her own Naboo blaster and holster from it. As she is buckling the belt, she sees the other two blasters in a shoulder rig, as well as two more arcane objects.

She picks the bag up and runs out of the commandant's quarters.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dek looks up as a tall, beautiful woman runs into the room, a blaster in one hand, an Imperial code cylinder in the other. She points the blaster at him, as she sees him standing over Ahsoka.

She stops short as she hears a weak voice. "He's okay, No-no. That's who we came to find."

Dek is struck by the tears forming in the woman's eyes. "Hey, Tano. Who did you piss off, now?" She holsters her blaster. She walks over and squats by the young warrior's head. She runs her hands over her cheeks gently, being careful to avoid the lek. "It's okay, Nola. You've touched them before."

The smirk flows through the Naboo's tears. "Not with an audience." She looks at Dek as Ahsoka rests her eyes. "It's the docilizer, isn't it?" He nods tightly.

"I don't know if this will help, Doctor, but when I received my credentials, I was instructed to get a vaccine." She shows him the word on her comm. "They told me that it was for a bug on this moon."

Dek's eyes narrow as he looks at the word. "Tanelon does nothing for bacteriological threats. It is used to combat the effects of nerve agents," he says absently. "A different dosage can be used as a prophylactic.

He looks at them."I didn't receive these instructions. But, this building is hermetically sealed. I am only allowed out for brief times, twice a day."

"Doctor, why is it hitting Ahsoka so hard? She is fit, strong, and young. She was hit almost immediately. Plus," Nola hesitates, "she has special abilities."

"It is alright, Nola. I know she is a Jedi." He looks at the ceiling. He doesn't look at them when he speaks. "I think that the series of nerve agents that Tanelon works on increases its potency on anyone who is stronger. They are designed that way."

"You should know. This agent is for humans. I can manufacture it quickly, but it may not work on her. Or," he takes a deep breath, "it may kill her outright."

Dala Ti looks at Nola. "Dear, she is Togruta. She is not conscious or lucid. By our law, it is up to her closest family to make that decision." She smiles. "That is obviously you." 

"What? No. We work together." She smiles ruefully. "Not even sure if we like each other or not."

"Obviously," Dala says drily.

Nola looks down at Ahsoka, who is moving in and out of consciousness. _You always make things hard for me, don't you, Tano? You are a colossal pain in the ass._ She can swear that there is a smile on the Togruta's full lips.

She reaches down and kisses the huntress. She looks at Dek. "Do it. If you see that she is...." She gathers herself. "Make it as easy as possible."

He nods. The Alderaani touches her hand. "There is more, Nola. This is important. I ran not just because I was ashamed. I ran because the Empire wants me to participate in an abomination."

Nola sits. "It is called the Deathtrooper Protocol. Basically taking elite soldiers and adding genetic enhancements. Enhancements created from the tissue of discarded clonetroopers."

He continues. "My research would make it possible to viably multiply the amount of enhancements that they could produce. They could provide these enhancements to the entire stormtrooper corps."

Dala looks at him as he works. "What about the Kaminoans? Couldn't they do this with all of their clones?"

He shakes his head. "They have refused to deal with the Empire. There are a few rogues, that could help, but they will not help as a people. Rumor has it they have destroyed every bit of tissue."

"They have clones here. There is also a structure that I cannot access. There may be tissue there."

"What do we have to do, Dek?" Nola asks.

"We have to destroy as much tissue as we can."

Nola looks at the code cylinder in her hands. "Where is this place? I may have a key."

"Due west of the compounds. Near the landing field."

"Great. We just have to get past that baby stardestroyer out there."

He looks at the golden-skinned woman. "Dala, feel like a stroll? I could use a huntress."

The Togruta smirks. "I would be glad to help, dear, but you should know. I am an architect. I have never hunted anything more than a rare steak and a fine red wine in my life."

"Well, if we have to build something...." She smiles. "I have been known to hunt those two things myself. If we all get out of this, Tano is buying." She looks mischievously at Dala. "Just so long as she ain't cooking it."

Their laughter is a brief respite.

Nola nods to Dek. "Take care of her, Doc." With a look at the huntress, they are gone.

Dek pulls out the vial of vaccine he has created. He fills an injector and injects himself.

He looks at the remainder of the vial. At Ahsoka. He sees her breathing grow shallower. He makes a choice.

He reaches into his own bag and pulls out a vial of green liquid. He walks over to the centrifuge in which he had just whipped up the vaccine. He looks at the vial. Something he has spent the better part of his professional life working on. He grows thoughtful.

Dek Antilles makes his choice. He pulls other devices and vials from his bag. He touches one of the devices to the wrist of the young woman. Within moments, he is looking at a small tube of her blood.

He sets to work.

Unbeknownst to him, a small green and white bird watches the building from a high perch on a guard tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tegaanalir - (Mando'a) rescue


	12. Dar'manda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Families in three places, all interconnected, find ways to save others.
> 
> A spymaster meets with an uncle.
> 
> A fixer and a warrior find ways to free a people.
> 
> Another warrior and his brothers and sister find the way to their lost brother.

The warrior watches the door carefully as the young woman walks into a den - a den of predators in their own right. He smiles at fond memories as she walks fearlessly to the bar and orders.

Fond, but painful memories.

She turns around and surveys the crowd. Her purple eyes lock on anyone who stares appraisingly at her. Her body is relaxed; her hands unencumbered as she downs her drink and sets it down for another.

The young Zeltron doesn't appear to be armed, but he knows from experience that is no hindrance, having watched her fight a Mando in _beskar'gam_ to to the death.

With only one of those knives that she no doubt has concealed in her form-fitting garments. The young woman had fought the Mando while burned from his flamethrower and cut with his blade, before finding an uncovered spot in his armor with her own.

_To his death._

His eyes grow sad as he thinks of the huntress who could make this young woman's heart leap and her eyes transition to the black of pure emotion with merely a serene smile. Of the same huntress holding her after that fight, all while listening to him report of failure to find the missing piece.

His eyes narrow as he sees one of the new Imperial types sidle up to her. Of seeing the man remove his bucket and put on his most charming smile.

Or at least what passes for it. His fellows seem to gather around, either to egg him on, or to get the scraps from his conquest.

Fenn Sh'ysa, last holder of the actual title of True _Mand'alor_ smiles as he pulls the hood tighter around his bare face. _You are outmatched, my lads and lasses. This fighter has Mandokar to spare._

The essence of being Mando. His smile grows wistful as he thinks of what this woman's love meant to his nephew. Of what his beloved Master's love meant to her. 

He can sense why Daaineran Faygan is here. To find that nephew. 

To hopefully find him and pull him from his grief and despair. To pull him back into the fight.

If there is anyone that can pull his head from where it is firmly placed in his shebs, it is this woman.

He sits back with his drink and enjoys the show.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan feels a gloved hand on her ass as she stares at the leering Mando. "So, what do you say, little Zeltron? I've heard that your kind could take us all on with no problem."

Dani smiles. She increases the empathic resonance. _These assholes could use a little distraction._ She can feel their heartrate and breathing increase in speed. She doesn't engage the one who had spoken to her. Instead, she focuses on the female standing next to him. She focuses all of her warmth and arousal on the woman.

The woman pulls her own bucket off, revealing a face, that under other circumstances, Dani would have loved to chat up. Much more than the muscle-headed male who opened this conversation. _Sorry, darling_ , she thinks, _Other plans. Probably with that tall drink of water under the hood in the corner._ Her smiles grows wistful. _I know that signature._

She starts as she realizes she may have gone overboard on the resonance. The mysterious figure's own cardiovascular activity has increased.

Along with every other sentient in the dingy bar. She shakes her head. She reaches over and touches the woman on her face, tracing her lips with the flat of her thumb. A gesture that has its intended effect on the larger asshole who had addressed her.

His anger boils over. He shoves the woman away. Right into another of the commandos. As the chain reaction from that shove boils over, Dani's eyes transition to an even blacker hue, as she releases her own anger into the resonance.

Pent-up emotions of lost loves and family flow to the five Imperial sympathizers.

In the corner, the hooded man rises as he smiles at the ensuing chaos. He catches her obsidian eye. She smiles and nods as the five would-be suitors are heavily engaged in fighting each other. She shifts her emotions back to the less violent. There is laughter in the cantina as she leaves. The five aggressors are soon more interested in each other than they thought possible.

 _Imperial supercommandos, my ass,_ thinks Fenn 

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani walks into the small room in the old building down the street. She watches the hood pull away from the man's face. A face of the nearly-familiar with the warm green eyes. "Hello, Dani darlin'," he says, "it has been awhile."

She falls into his arms easily. Her lips touch his as they both remember. As they both feel the leftover emotional resonance and their shared pain. Her tongue gently presses to meet his.

Fenn smiles against her lips. He gently pushes her away. She looks down. "Sorry," she says. 

He shakes his head. "Don't be, darlin'." He touches her face. "Any other time, any other place, I would take you up on this. But it isn't what we need."

He smirks. "Besides, I just watched you weaponize horniness. Most impressive."

Her smirk matches his own. "Well, I didn't feel like breaking a sweat. At least not in that way," she says with a hooded look. "Gotta use the weapons I was given."

"Sweetness, I have seen you wipe the floor with Mandos before. Don't give me that poodoo that you spread around about you being a 'mediocre fighter.' Don't buy it."

He holds her close. "I am so sorry about Ti. She was one of the finest people I have ever met," he says quietly. He sees the emotion play over her face. 

She breaks away and sits down at a small table. Fenn pulls a bottle and two glasses. She downs the whiskey in one swallow.

She contemplates the empty glass. "I know that she is dead. But some part of me hopes against hope that she is in hiding somewhere."

He nods. "There were rumors that she was on Felucia. I looked into it a bit more. Even managed to get my former _lieutenant_...." Dani starts as his voice drips with contempt. "....now Imperial stooge Rau to look into it. There was nothing to the rumors."

She nods. "I know that if she was alive, she would let me know. In spite of wanting to protect me."

Dani notices his eyes looking at the floor. "What, Fenn?"

"Do you want to know for sure, Daaineran?" His eyes are filled with tears. After a moment, she nods. He takes a deep breath. He stands up and walks over to her again. He pulls her close. "Rau found a snippet of helmet footage. Just a snippet. From Kamino."

He hears a sob; feels it against his chest. "The clones there killed her with her own saber, then made sure." She can feel his sadness. His anger. "She loved those clones. Like they were her own children."

He is silent, as he listens to her quiet sobs. He is fairly certain, she has cried most of her tears already. Three and a half years ago, when the Empire announced that they had destroyed the Jedi in an attempted coup by the Order. His hands move to her cheeks. Her black eyes look into his. "There is more, Dani. I don't know if this gives you comfort or not, but before the clip went on the fritz, there was indication that there was one trooper who fought his brothers for her. Opened up on them after they killed her."

He reaches down and kisses her. "Don't know if it helps or not, knowing that she wasn't alone, but...." He notices a slight smile on her lips. "Dani....?"

She looks up at him. "I don't think that was a trooper, Fenn. Which leads me to why I am here."

Dani draws in a deep breath; exhales. "I think that Tal is alive. Now that you tell me this, I think he was there when Ti died. He was a Jedi Shadow and had a propensity for wearing trooper armor even when he wasn't being all Shadow-y."

She nods at his skeptical look. "I know, it is a reach, but...."

He brushes her tears away with his thumbs. "Not so much of a reach, dear. Seeing how I stood at his wedding and gave his bride away to him, about a year ago."

She is silent as she looks up at him. She wills her eyes to move back to their usual purple. Their calm purple.

"Tell me," she whispers.

He sits next to her, his hand wrapped in hers in an easy grip. His eyes grow sad. "She was a beautiful warrior. From a Clan steeped in Death Watch."

He closes his eyes. Dani starts at the resemblance to a young Jedi, whose green eyes would close in concentration as he centered himself. _In pain and sadness, as well._

Fenn opens those familiar eyes. "She had her own demons. Just as he did. They faced them together."

Her heart falls at the tense. "Had? Faced?" she says. When he replies, she sees the raw emotion. "She died. About six months ago. Killed by Imperial troops." The pain swells as she remembers Phygus' words about a young mother and her unborn son. _The leader,_ he had called her.

The young woman lets the tears flow again, as she thinks of the losses of the man she had known. A snarky, sarcastic, but loving young Jedi. The last time that she had seen him, he was contemplating a new life.

One with the possibility of another young ex-Jedi being in it. A huntress that Dani had watched grow closer with him on an Outer Rim pirate vessel.

A huntress who was most likely dead. _Marching far away,_ as this man would say.

She looks up and allows him to continue. "Rumor has it that he killed all of the Imperials. Single-handedly. With no mercy." He smiles. "I don't believe that. But I don't know."

Dani looks him in the eye. "Is he alive?"

He exhales. "If you can call what he is, alive. He..."

"My sources say that he is occasionally doing jobs. Jobs that pay well, but still do some good. But otherwise, they say, he has fallen into a hole of despair."

"Fenn, I need to find him. His other family and his other world needs him." She chokes. "I need him. I need to know that the person that meant the most to her..."

She curses under her breath. He pulls her to him again. His own tears fall. She reaches up and kisses him again. He rests his forehead against hers. "He is on Takodana. The pirate queen's world."

She nods. "Let me make a call, Dani. Maz may not like anyone poking around. I'll let her know what you and he mean to each other."

He squeezes her tighter. "Find him. Bring him back out of the despair. From the darkness." His hand moves to her hair. "I know what it means to lose family. To not know." He places his lips against her forehead. "I supposedly have two daughters out there. Twins. From when my father got the idea that I needed polish and sent me to an off world University." He smiles ruefully. "Fell in with a scientist. Barely got out of that one alive." In his mind's eye, he sees a holo of two little girls. Both with blonde hair; one with aqua eyes, the other with a jade version of his own. He sees their mother; her virulent anger at him and the universe overflowing.

She reaches up and touches his face. "I find him, I may come back and throw you down on this table, _Mand'alor._ " 

"May let you, heartbreaker."

They hold each other and think of hope. Of family.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola Vorserrie touches the code cylinder to the pad of the lock. Dala busies herself pulling the bodies of the two naval troopers from sight. The light on the lock turns green. The door slides open.

As they enter, Nola and Dala look at one another. The medicinal, antiseptic smell is almost overpowering.

A smell that is overlaid with another.

The smell of decay. Of death. Nola begins to walk faster into the complex.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dek Antilles rubs his eyes as he looks at the cells of the young Togruta lying on his medtable. A young woman fighting with every particle of her being. In spite of the situation, he smiles to himself. _Hope I can fight off death like this girl can._

His smile grows as he looks at the cells again. The cells that make her unique. That help facilitate the spiritual connection to everything in the universe.

He struggles in his fatigue to remember the name for them. He rests his head against the eyepiece of the viewer. _Midichlorians._

He looks back. Those cells, helped along by a tiny bit of his professional life's work, attack the invading genetic soup of the docilizer.

Dek Antilles looks at the peaceful face, the shallow breathing. He reaches over and touches her shoulder, then her cheeks. He marvels at the strength in her features, even at rest. The determination. 

He looks back at the sample. He makes a choice. He scribbles calculations on his datapad.

He pulls out the new vial of the genetic multiplier that he has synthesized in the last hour. He adds it to the Tanelon left over from his vaccine. He watches as the Tanelon expands and changes color slightly.

Dek Antilles inserts the fluid into an injector. With only a half-second's hesitation, he touches the injector to the large artery on the warrior's neck.

Almost immediately, he sees her head begin to toss from side to side. Her lekku begin to flex. He steels himself and shoves her shoulders down to the bed. A powerful buzzing intrudes into his brain as the young woman begins to convulse.

Her blue eyes snap open. Unseeing, unfocused, but burning with power. With pain.

With struggle.

Unaccountably, he thinks of a small white and green bird as the warrior continues to struggle. An avatar that even as he sees it, circles the young woman's consciousness.

_To save, or to claim?_

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka struggles to the light. As her mind's eye adjusts, she feels an unimaginable warm calm come over her. _Am I dead?_

The warmth grows. The light recedes, as she sees a warm pair of green eyes looking down at her, only inches above hers. Ahsoka feels the warmth grow from her center as she realizes she is connected to the bearer of those green eyes, as well as his warm skin. She feels her hands move around his back and shoulders as a different light builds.

The vision is replaced by the bright light, the unimaginable warmth, and a the sense of....something floating above her. Circling her.

In the background of her senses is a warm green and gold light. Overlaid with flashes of purple. Or two lights of different hues of green and gold, with the purple shining brighter and brighter. A flash of orange stripes through the light for an instant.

The bright lights disappear, replaced by warm Coruscanti sunlight. Sunlight playing through low windows.

She finds herself flying through the sunlight, striking a hard tile and stone floor.

The impact padded by her mattress pushed under her at the last minute. A warm, drawling voice intrudes into her sense. _If my princess Runt cares to join us, we will be having lightsaber practice this morning. But only if the spirit moves you._

The voice is attached to the splashes of color in the background of her senses. A word comes to her mind. In the language of her birth. A nickname of warmth, of humor, and of love.

 _Baa'je._

One who is set out. 

_Bait._

Her eyes snap open. A handsome, young face stares down at her, his hazel eyes wide. Her heart sinks. She knows the face, it is the face of an ally.

But not the one that she was hoping to see. 

The warmth remains. She recognizes the long forgotten remnants of a Force-healing trance.

Something she had never been proficient at. A lack that had frustrated Barriss Offee to no end as they studied together.

She sits up. The room only spins briefly. "What the hell?" exclaims Dek Antilles. "I just injected you with the damned stuff thirty seconds ago. Ten seconds of convulsions and you were laying there peaceful as you please."

"Said it before, Doc. Good stock."

She swings her legs from the bed. Her bare feet touch the cold floor.

She is suddenly looking up at the Alderaani geneticist from a new vantage point.

The medico smirks down from that high point. "Yep. Undoubtedly. Good stock, but no grace whatsoever."

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola opens the door to a large chamber. The medicine-decay smell hits both of them, nearly knocking them back. Dala's eyes tear as her more sensitive nose tells her the source.

Nola holsters her blaster and takes the Togruta's hand in hers. She slaps the light pad.

To a horror show. 

Togruta bodies, in various stages of dismemberment rest in stasis chambers. Two or three have not been put into the chambers, providing the smell. Nola takes a deep breath. She turns to Dala and hugs the woman to her. "There is no reason for you to see this any longer, Dala. Stay out here; I have to see what happened."

Dala grasps her hands in hers. Nola's heart sinks at the memory of other hands and skin of that temperature. Dala's light blue eyes look into her brown. "No, Nola. I owe it to them to find out what happened. I'll be strong. For them."

Nola smiles and kisses her on the golden cheek. "I never doubted it, Dala." Their hands drop to their sides, one of each still connected. They steel themselves again and walk in. 

They realize that the dismemberment is centered around the heads. The montrals and lekku. The architect and the fixer look at one another. They recall Dek's words about the genetic material of clones. Of the Deathtrooper project.

"What would they want with Togruta tissue?" Nola asks. "Especially since the Empire is not big on non-humans." Dala is silent for a moment. 

They both reach the same conclusion. "The hunting skills," Nola says. Dala nods. "But the joke may be on them," she says. "While every Togruta has the same potential and abilities for hunting, not all are developed enough where they can actually hunt better than anyone else. Especially city dwellers and those on Kiros."

Nola finishes for her. "Only a relatively small number still possess the ability to use the senses and interpret it."

Nola walks over to the far wall, pulling stasis drawers out. All are empty, as if prepared. As if waiting. 

She pulls the last one out. She recoils. She realizes that the tissue from the corpses has not left the planet. She nods. 

Nola places her hands on Dala's shoulders. "Dala, Ahsoka has told me what happens to Togruta after death. That those in the Hunt return to the world. To nature." The architect nods. "Yes. It is true of all, just a bit less...natural in cities and on Kiros."

"We have to destroy this tissue. We have no way to guarantee that we will be able to take it with us. It cannot fall into the hands of Imperial scientists."

Dala closes her eyes. Nola can see the tears starting to fall from the lids. Her eyes snap open. "We have to, or their deaths will have been in vain. What do we need to do?"

"We will need an intense fire." She thinks. _Come on, No-no. Think._

She sees a cabinet full of chemicals. Nola Vorrserrie smiles. "Give me those two blasters. Make sure that you have one and plenty of ammo packs."

She remembers a young Jedi, his warm green eyes narrowed in concentration as he figured out how to 'salt the earth' on a desert hole. A desert hole that he and others had just assisted her in escaping a sadistic Separatist warlord.

Dala hands the Naboo the blaster pistol and rifle. She keeps the remaining one. "Start spreading those chemicals, everywhere. Leave some in their containers and lay a trail. Everywhere, Dala!"

She notices the Togruta looking at her. "Nola. I know we don't have a lot of time, but I need to do something for these people. I need to give a benediction. Don't know if I believe in the Pantheon, but they might."

Nola nods. She smiles and takes Dala's hand. She sends a silent prayer of her own.

As they finish, Nola places the blasters on the table. She sets a datapad down and links it to the mainframe. She places the code cylinder in the slot and begins to grab every bit of information that she can.

Nola also sends a burst comm transmission. A cry for assistance; for reinforcement.

A message for a powerful Queen. Only then does she allow herself to think of the young Togruta lying on a medbed a couple of buildings away. She smiles to herself as the data dump completes. 

She enters a specific comm code into the datapad to download to another comm.

The comm of a young warrior, who even now, Nola is not sure still lives. She sends another quick prayer to whatever Naboo deities that will listen, that the young warrior will be able to survive and live to be a pain in her ass another day.

"Please."

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka pushes Dek's hands away. She gets up and stands. She braces herself on the bed. After a moment, she releases the bed.

She is able to stand without falling for one minute. She looks down at herself and realizes that she is no longer wearing her prison shift. She looks at the geneticist. He shrugs. "Don't look at me. I am not too worried about it. One, I am a doctor, and two, doesn't do much for me, except as an appreciation of art."

His eyes grow hard. "I don't think I will find your clothes until I can monitor you a bit more. You nearly died and I haven't figured out how you are breathing, much less standing."

She Smirks and places her hand on his shoulder. "Dek. I appreciate what you have done for me. However, withholding clothes is not exactly a deterrent to Togruta. We hunt in very small amounts of clothing. I am not afraid to walk out there stark naked to fight for my people."

He curses under his breath. "Spare me from martyrs. Here," he says, handing her some clothes from his bag. "We're about the same size. Put these on."

The young huntress is soon dressed in a pair of comfortable cargo pants and a shirt. She starts to roll up the sleeves; looks at Dek. Without a word, he pulls a scalpel and slices them off.

She nods her thanks. He hands her another carryall. "Here. Nola left this for you. She said you might need it if you, and I quote, ever decide to get off of your ass and start doing your goddamned job."

She opens the bag and starts pulling out various items. Items of destruction.

The two well-used clone blasters and their shoulder holster find themselves where they belong. The same for the weapons' belt with the matching lightsabers she had constructed on Raada.

Her comm. She switches it on. She realizes there is a message with data attachments waiting. She scrolls through, her eyes widening at the horrors listed. She beckons Dek over to allow him to see the data. 

His expression darkens as he sees the scope of the Empire's plans. For the clone troopers. For anyone who can enhance the Deathtroopers.

The last item is a set of coordinates in the next system over. The diagrams are that of an old Republic Medical and Surgical Unit. A RMSU.

She remembers healing in one, after the campaign on Z'ambique. Just after her first ever stint in bacta. She shakes her head of the memories.

As the data finishes displaying, she notices something she hasn't seen in months. An old signal nearby on her comm net.

A recognizable symbol. Familiar to her as Fulcrum. She smiles a predator's smile. She had never met them; the owners of the symbol.

But many slaves and former clones owed their existences to them. She saves the information until she can find a more powerful transmitter to send it on.

To the _Laughing Beskad._

Ahsoka Tano turns to the object of her search. Before she can say anything, he nods. "Go, beautiful. I have plenty to keep myself occupied, what with trying to manufacture a vaccine for those Togruta who don't have your abilities."

She nods and touches his hand as she turns.

He turns to his work, after watching her go. He smiles as he thinks of others with such a purpose. Such drive and strength.

He can only think of a handful. He is related to more than a few of them.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka dashes from the medcenter. A few fleeties try to stop her, she reaches out with the Force and tosses them aside.

She can feel herself growing more invigorated as she heads to the landing field. A part of her thinks of the Force presence in her head. Of the associated warmths with it. She tries to push away a few of those warmths that have made their way to her center.

_I'll think about those when I am horizontal again and not running through an Imperial base. When I can take care of them._

She passes several of the emitters for the docilizer. Unaccountably, they fall off of their mounts and are no longer useful.

She sees and hears what she is looking for, rising from the landing field.

The Arquitens-class light cruiser. She smiles as she comes under it and leaps. The pure joy of being alive nearly overwhelms her as her feet plant on the upper hull.

 _Right where she wanted to._ A lightsaber swing makes short work of the entry hatch. A kick to the jaw of one and then to the groin of the other of the two crew members stationed there makes even shorter work of them.

She continues her run as she remembers the layout from her service on similar ships. She senses familiar signatures, very weak ones, as she approaches a large cargo bay.

Not Force-sensitives, but lives within the Force. As familiar to her as her montrals and lekku. As she approaches the hatch at a fast clip, she realizes that her energy in the Force will not last. It will dissipate and she will drop like a stone until she can rest and eat. Until she can heal.

Ahsoka pushes forward. As she rounds a corner, her saber comes up and deflects two energy bolts back to the source.

Two more naval troopers. An officer starts to run. Ahsoka yanks back with the Force and slams her into the bulkhead. The universal Jedi key slices the door to the cargo hold open. 

She walks into a room of despair. Stacked three high are stasis tubes in racks. At least twenty. 

She can only detect faint life signs. She quickly scans the tubes. Her heart sinks as she sees the familiar, beloved faces.

Much older faces than she is used to. Older than Rex and Cody and the others.

She checks each one, can only find two that contain live troopers.

Two that are fading fast, themselves. She sets her mouth in a line. She sends herself into the dormant minds of those still alive. 

She reels back as she realizes that they are in incredible pain.

The young ex-Jedi tries to send some of herself to them, to calm them, to ease them.

She is overwhelmed by images of slaughtered Jedi. Of younglings, Padawans, knights, and Masters.

Of her family. 

She pulls herself away from the horrors. She finds herself slumped against the bulkhead. 

Ahsoka Tano makes her decision. She looks at the life support systems of the tubes. They, like, the clones, are old and out of date. They are failing as she tries to familiarize herself with their controls.

Her brothers, no matter what they did under duress, are dying. For all of her power, her strength, she can do nothing for them.The pain nearly overwhelms her again, as she sends the Force energy to them. 

Not to heal, but to ease. _Rest well, my beautiful Vod'e,_ she thinks. _May your marching be easy._

She sits with them until their tubes fail, rocking back on her heels, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She stands, much more weakened. She hears an alarm start up.

Ahsoka Tano turns and walks out of the cargo bay. She heads to the engine room. _This ship will not make it out of the atmosphere, she vows. My brothers will not be part of whatever this is._

She makes a stop before the engine room. A small communications hub. She ties her datapad and comm to the large array.

She watches as the information uploads to the familiar icon on her comm. As she does, she falls to her knees. She closes her eyes and reaches out. She visualizes the engine room controls from long ago watches stood briefly.

The Force makes short work of moving them where she needs them. How she needs them.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola Vorrserrie and Dala Ti exit the complex, just in time to see a tall figure leap to the cruiser, her lekku streaming. _Guess she is okay, then._ The two look at each other and grin. They head to the Togruta compound, as the building that they had just left explodes into an intense fire.

They are both knocked to the ground by the shock wave. As they struggle to get up, they realized that the light cruiser is no longer climbing.

No longer climbing, but starting a rapid descent. Nola nods. _I didn't just figure out that you had saved yourself to watch you die in a fiery crash, Tano. Get the hell out of there._

No one answers.

~+~+~+~+~+

Taliesin Croft watches the stars pass by as the small shuttle starts on another leg of a search pattern. He has allowed no one to join him in the pilots' compartment, or take over the controls.He smiles. Thyla in particular was incensed by his disregard of her clearly superior flying skills.

Hopefully Rex was keeping her mind off of her disdain in the old full-sized bed in the cabin. His eyes close briefly as he remembers other time and other warmths in that cabin.

His eyes snap open as a sudden warmth and burst of light flares in his Force sense. A familiar light, a familiar sensation.

One that has haunted his dreams since that dreaded day. Since before, when he awoke and his hunt sister was no longer in his arms.

His cheeks flame as certain sensations come to the fore. As he sees her blue eyes looking up at him.

Eyes glazed in abandon. 

The eyes are replaced by a burst of warm blue and orange light in his Force sense.

A beeping noise sends the sensations away. He looks at the console. He recognizes a string of numbers and letters.

Recognition codes from a blocked comm. No comm icon, just the code.

From someone he had not heard from in months. Since before he died again. 

Their mysterious contact known as Fulcrum.

A full data stream begins to download. He is able to track the source; somewhere in the Delan system.

The coordinates that they send mark the system they have been searching for twenty hours, to no avail.

He smiles. He opens the comm to below. "Everybody drop who or what you are doing and meet me in the main compartment. Time to get what we came for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dar'manda - (Mando'a) State of not being Mandalorian; loss of status.


	13. Yaim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go. On two worlds.

The man once known as Taliesin Croft listens to the ideas and wild-ass guesses flying around the main compartment. He looks at a diagram of the half-decommissioned RMSU.

The Republic Medical and Surgical Units. The hospital outposts that had been the lifeline for clonetroopers during the war.

The outposts that had also been relatively easy pickings of Separatist attacks, with the added bonus of killing thousands of helpless clones. 

Cut eyes him as the planning continues. At the expression of pain and grief on his face. The farmer smiles as he sees the ex-Jedi stand and walk to the storage bins.

He turns back to the discussion. Two clones, including a decorated officer, plus one Jedi General of Commandos and we can't come up with a decent plan to free our brothers.

A loud crash penetrates and ends the discussion. Two sets of full modern stormtrooper armor is sitting in the middle of the floor where Croft has tossed them.

"Well, how about this?" Croft says with gritted teeth. "How about we use the stolen priority Imperial clearance code that Gregor made sure we were equipped with and kept up to date, figure out who is going to be in the armor and who is going to be the poor downtrodden clone prisoner. We get on board, we do what Republic commandos, or," he smirks, "wannabes do, which is cause havoc and chaos and accomplish our mission objectives, smartly."

He ignores the two upraised middle fingers from the 'wannabes.' 

Cut smiles. _Guess the Jedi General hadn't actually been heard from._

"So," Rex says. "Cut here will make a fine prisoner. I will get in the armor. I guess that you will get in the other set, since Thyla won't fit in it, and we go to town."

Croft looks him over and smirks. "I was actually thinking that Cut actually still is in shape enough to pass for a soldier, whereas, you, Captain, could stand to run around a drill field a few times."

The look that Rex gives the ex-Jedi could slaughter Padawans and shinies with equal fervor. He starts to speak. "I got your....."

A very loud and painful eyeroll is felt. "Come on boys. Looks like I will have to add Cut to that measuring list, although," she says with a grin, "Suu can claim that pleasure."

Cut smiles. "I have been out of the troopers for a while. Rex has the bearing and more up-to- date military knowledge, in spite of looking like he is in his second trimester before the batch is uncorked."

Thyla's musical laugh cuts the tension in the air. She pats Rex's flat stomach. She kisses him gently to take the sting out. "You still got it, Captain," she whispers. Rex looks at Croft.

"Well, don't look at me. I am not going to kiss you, Captain. Don't rightly care if you still got it or not."

"So, we have an hour before I want to be docked with the station. We'll get on, get Gregor and whoever else, and get the hell off. We need to leave destruction in our wake."

He looks at all of them with something akin to love. "Thyla, it is up to you to get us out of here, sweetie."

She smiles at him. "Always, love. I will be there for you all."

"Then let's memorize the station layout and be about it."

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka braces herself against a bulkhead in the engine room, as the attitude of the cruiser takes a sharp downward pitch. The three unconscious engine crew slide around the floor. She sighs and waves her hand to shove them into a small closet. She can feel the _tchunk_ of escape pods leaving the ship.

Her Force-work had worked only as well as her memory did. In the end, she had come into the engine room, as her thirteen-year-old Initiate's memory of a week learning to be a watch-stander on a Judicial _Arquitens_ light cruiser, had failed her for the final step for engine shutdown. Especially since that training had in no way included making sure that the engines did not restart.

A few punches and Force-suggestions had ensured that. As well as a lightsaber through the panel.

Her stomach lurches as the pitch falls to the vertical. And beyond. The artificial gravity struggles to keep up on backup power. She is glad that she hasn't eaten anything. As a child, she had prided herself on being able to take any jinking that Hawk and other lartie pilots could throw at her.

While eating a ration bar.

After the illness, her own internal attitude was off kilter. She manages to keep what little bit she had in her stomach. _Well, at least in her mouth,_ she thinks with a grimace at the taste. A wave of weakness passes through her body. She feels herself slipping from the bulkhead as the Force fluctuates around her. 

She grits her teeth and focuses. She can sense the ground coming up. She can only hope that the arc of the ship takes it far enough away from her people.

From her......what? Boss? Handler? Comrade-in-arms? Pain in the ass? Does one time make her a lover? Her sister? She smiles. _All of the above._

The ground rushes closer.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lieutenant Rae Sloane sips her caf as she stands watch in the control room of the station. As a newly promoted full lieutenant and the naval liaison for the project, she doesn't have to, but prefers to be where she can see everything happening. She is monitoring a possible situation at the detention camp in the next system over. She sighs, wondering if she will have to send some of her meager supply of troopers to back them up.

Her brow furrows under her cap as as she remembers her one trip to the camp. Her eyes mist over when she recalls the abject misery of the Togruta at the camp. She doesn't harbor her fellow officers' disdain for non-humans, but she had been told that they had been sent there for their own protection.

 _Why do they have to suffer, so, Rae?_ A tiny voice asks in her mind. A tiny voice that sounds suspiciously like the voice of her beloved older sister, Jana.

She closes her eyes, as she can't answer.

"Lieutenant?" comes the clear voice of the true watch officer. "Yes, Chief?" she replies, her eyes snapping open.

"A shuttle is signalling that they have a 'package' for the scientists." 

"That's odd. What is their mission?" He looks perplexed. "Imperial commandos on retrieval mission. Came across a deserter on Fondor. Operating number indicates that the package died on First Geonosis."

"What about their clearance code?" The chief nods. "Checks out. It is an older code, but that is a Clone Wars relic."

She looks at the display. "You're right. Haven't seen one of those operational in a while. May have to check it out." She clears her mind. "Dock them."

"Shuttle TH-13425, you are clear at Airlock 23."

"As you say."

Rae's eyes narrow at the reply. _That is an archaic form of reply. Never heard that in the Imperial service._ She smirks. Only relics like Dav Kolan say things like that.

_Relics all of three years older than me._

"Take over here." She points to two troopers. "On me."

~+~+~+~+~+

A Naboo fixer stands near the fence of the compound. She can see the guards in the towers standing confused at the explosions occurring in the outer compounds. Togruta are starting to mingle near the energy fencing. A low murmur can be heard, but not much more aggression since the docilizer emitters had stopped working.

She looks at Dala. "How's the head, Dala?" she asks. "Not bad, Nola. Might be getting a little better. But of course, I am, as you and Ahsoka would say, an old fart." Nola laughs quickly. "I call her that. She _is_ two years older than me."

A quick eyeroll and they are back staring at the fence. They start as they hear footsteps behind them, then relax as they see the young scientist run up to them. "Got everything, Doc?" the Naboo asks. "Yep," he replies as he lifts a small pack. "Seem to have misplaced my only patient, though."

Dala smiles at him. "Whatever you gave her, must've worked. We last saw a trail of unconsciousness and destruction as we saw her jump on to a lifting cruiser."

"Wasn't anything I did," he grumbles. "Think she had already made up her mind to heal on her own."

"That's my pain in the ass," Nola says. "She can out-stubborn anything; a little chemical or something has no chance."

They sober as they look at the fence again. Dek can see wheels turning in the young fixer's head. She closes her eyes. They snap open. "There in the corner. The fields of fire between the towers might let a body through one at a time. We just have to keep the other towers occupied and get the fence down." 

"Oh, is that all?" Dala says. Dek grins at Nola. "You're pretty good. Are you sure that the princess of mayhem and destruction hasn't rubbed off on you a little bit?" 

"Don't know what you mean, Doc. I was a Naboo handmaiden. It wasn't all makeup tips and etiquette." She softens. "Yeah, you're right - she has rubbed off on me a tiny bit. 

At that precise moment, the cruiser that the princess was last seen on makes its appearance to the west.

Just before it pancakes into the ground. 

They and the troopers are transfixed by the wedge-shaped bow plowing into the ground.

Upside down. 

"Come on," Nola whispers. "While they are distracted. Let's get to the fence." She tosses Dek a purloined blaster. The doctor looks at it, as if remembering a brand-new lesson. He follows Nola and Dala.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft tries to get used to the unfamiliar stormtrooper bucket as he waits for the airlock to cycle open. Thyla is hidden in lowered pilot's seat ready to get them out. He checks his compatriots over. Cut's wrists are bound behind him in loosely locked binders. A spare blaster hangs from Rex's utility belt. Croft smiles behind his bucket. Rex, in spite of their joshing, looks every inch the professional soldier.

Probably too good for stormtroopers. The airlock light comes on. He stands in the door of the RMSU. He jerks his head at the others, as befitting the officer's pauldron.

He steps in. He stops as his heart sinks.

There, standing in her trim uniform is a sight that rips through Croft. 

A ghost come back to life. He closes his eyes as he hears the last words of Jana Sloane as her stardestroyer rams the Separatist heavy unit. As he sees her peaceful face after she has been recovered.

Of her ravaged body. 

He thinks back to more joyful times, of laughter and her eyes lighting with ecstasy. Of quiet existence between watches.

The young naval officer looks at him with irritation. 

A look that he is used to from the original bearer of that face. A name is almost on his lips.

 _Rae._ Jana Sloane's pride and joy. Moreso than their parents.

She punches him in the chest. "Hey, stormie. Wake the hell up in my airlock." 

"That is Captain Stormie, to you, Lieutenant," he replies. "You don't rank me."

"I do in my command. What do you want?"

_Yep. Jana's sister. Overlaid with the arrogance of an Imperial training regimen._

He feels a mixture of pride and disgust. Disgust that Rae would tarnish Jana's memory like that. He shakes his head. "Got a gift for your nerds." He jerks Cut forward. "Found him on Fondor. ID chip didn't check out with what he told us. Turns out he died on First Geonosis."

 _Partially true,_ he thinks.

"This place is supposed to be secret. Why are you here?" she says. "Look. We are a retrieval unit. We look for deserters. We were told to look out for loose clones and bring them here. Do you want to see my orders?"

"No. But maybe Dr. Zan Arbor does." She jerks her head to follow.

_Zan Arbor? I thought she was dead. Oh great, this just gets better and better._

He triggers helmet to helmet and hopes nobody else has the freq. "We may be needing to get out of here in a hurry. Rex, next junction, break off and try to find our brothers. Cut and I will start with the mayhem if we need to when we find this scientist. If it is who I think it is, it might be best to go ahead and put her out of the galaxy's misery."

"Got it," he hears Rex's dry tones. He sees Cut nod slightly from the tiny earpiece. A soft double mike click from Thyla finishes the conversation. He feels Rex's extra blaster move to his belt.

Rex's footsteps recede. 

The little procession turns into a small chamber. A young blonde woman dressed in the working uniform of an Imperial military scientist turns and looks at them curiously. "Dr. Zan Arbor, this officer says he has orders to bring clones here," Rae says.

 _Well, not the one I was expecting,_ Croft thinks. _A little young._ "That is interesting," she says, her blue-green eyes locking on his bucket. He starts. There is something familiar about her eyes.

_Besides the fact that they have kind of a demented look._

"No line units have been tasked with retrieval," she continues calmly.

"Not a line unit, ma'am," he says, "Task Force Finder. SpecOps."

_Well, it sounds good._

"I am unfamiliar with that unit. I am familiar with almost all of Special Operations."

The woman looks at him coolly. "No matter. We will settle your bonafides later. What have we here?"

She walks over to Cut. She pokes him in the gut and generally begins a close inspection process. Croft smirks as she spends a great deal of time running her hand over his groin and grasping.

His smile fades as she grabs Cut's jaw hard and forces open his mouth. A slight smile quirks her lips. Zan Arbor looks at Croft. "He is too wild. Put a bolt in his head."

The ex-Jedi remains calm. "Rex, get ready for fireworks. Cut, try not to kill the naval officer."

He looks at the odds. Beside the scientist and the naval officer, who are both armed with pistols, there are four fleet troopers.

"Take your two. I got the scientist, Cut." he says over the helmet net.

He fires at the scientist.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka tries to remember where she left her lekku. She winces as she touches one, then the other, confirming that they are still attached. She can definitely feel the rear one. With an effort, she pulls her eyes open and attempts to focus them.

Just in time to see an Imperial naval officer swing a large hammer at her head. The hammer glances off of her shoulder. _Seems to be the norm when someone swings a hammer at me,_ she thinks, remembering a long-ago clash in the hyperdrive area of an pirate vessel.

The young ex-Jedi leaps to her feet and swings the rest of her body up. Unlike her lekku, her lightsabers don't seem to be in the general vicinity. She ducks another swing of the hammer. "Fucking tailhead bitch," the assailant says, swinging the hammer wildly, "you destroyed my ship."

Ahsoka is a bit too busy to engage in witty combat banter, seeing that she seems to have misplaced her brain as well.

She manages to grab the wrist holding the hammer. She squeezes as hard as she is able.

 _Oh. I have a right hand. And a Force-sense._ The remembered right hand forms into a fist. There is a crunch as it connects with the jaw of the officer.

She Smirks as she opens her left hand and drops the dead weight of the Captain. She holds both hands out.

Missing lightsabers fly into them and ignite. Ahsoka Tano runs to the nearest outer bulkhead and thrusts the sabers through the metal. As they meet in the middle of the circle, she realizes that she is standing on the overhead, rather than the deck.

The cruiser is upside down. _Never let it be said, Snips, that you do things half-assed._

As the hull-piece falls away, she hears the sound of blasterfire. "Well, No-no. You talk about me pissing people off," she says to herself.

She sheathes her blades and jumps to the ground. Her weakness and pain are forgotten as she runs to the fight.

~+~+~+~+~+

Lieutenant Commander Jace Taum sits up quickly. He immediately regrets it as his head explodes. He looks down. The beautiful wooden table that is his pride and joy from his time on Kashyyyk swells into his clearing vision.

He remembers that he was a lot closer to it than ever before. His lips curl into a sneer as he feels the woman's warm hands on his forehead.

Just before she had slammed his head into the wood. He reaches up and feels the wetness at the back of his head.

His room shakes. Taum realizes that it is not the product of his head-injury. Explosions rock the headquarters structure. He searches for his blaster, but cannot find it. He curses again as he remembers the face of the Senatorial meddler. He smiles as he thinks what she will look like hanging from the gallows in front of the complex.

He runs from the room.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola and her crack commando team arrive at the base of the fence. They look at one another and try to figure out how to turn it off. "Well, it would've been nice if someone had brought some grenades," Dek says drily.

"Why am I supposed to think of everything?" she says defensively. 

"Well, in this case, you are the brains, Handmaiden," Dala says quietly.

_Says the architect and the scientist with advanced degrees from the finest Universities._

She realizes she is worrying her lip with a canine. She shakes her head, but pulls up short as she hears a loud banshee-like noise in the edge of her consciousness.

She smiles as she recognizes it. "We could come up with a plan, or..." The others look at her strangely as she holds her hand up at the fence.

The fence suddenly explodes about five lengths down from Nola and the gathered Togruta on the other side of the fence. As do five of the gun-towers. A large Corellian corvette screams over.

"....we could just let them do it for us." she finishes with a relieved expression on her face. She looks at the gathered Togruta, who are picking themselves off of the ground with perplexed looks. Dala runs towards them before any Imperials can recover.

Dek looks at her with a gleam in his eye. "Not bad, Nola. Timing is everything in comedy."

"You bitch!" comes a voice from behind them. She whirls as the commandant points a trooper's blaster at her. She moves for her own, which she had laid on the ground while figuring out their next move.

Dek's inexperienced hands fumble with his. Nola is about to close her eyes as the Imperial fires.

An orange blur flies between her and the blaster. The red bolt intersects with the ex-Jedi's body.

Nola screams as she sees Ahsoka fall, her deactivated lightsaber in her hand.

~+~+~+~+~+

Rex curses silently as he hears Croft's warning. He palms open what he hopes is the correct door. _Tenth time is the charm._

He stands in a room filled with humming tubes. Five racks of three each. He curses again as he starts to check them.

The first five tubes that he checks, his face grows more grim as he sees that the vital signs are flatlined. The sixth, he grins as sees the familiar addled expression in the staring eyes. He starts to look for the deactivator that Croft had showed him on this model.

~+~+~+~+~+

_Captain Gregor fires at the rapidly approaching B1s and B2s. He checks his weapon. The advanced blaster still has a hundred shots in the pack, but there may be too many of them. He looks up and sees the heavy Nu approaching the cruiser in his bucket's optics. Well, the droids and the little Colonel had gotten away._

_He continues to fire as more droids approach. He is a Republic Commando. It is what he was born to do._

_Oddly, he thinks of others in his life that have said this to him. His still-foggy brain struggles to process._

_A young Jedi. No, actually two or three. A very large clone. One that he feels that he should respect above all others. Even though the large brother is outranked._

_His vision suddenly fades._

_Fades to a bright world. Two small faces watch his as he stumbles into their barn. His head hurts. He reaches up to his forehead. He finds a small wound._

_No, not a wound. An incision. He has had surgery of some kind._

_+Gregor.+_

_+Commander Gregor.+ The voice is more insistent._

_Bright light flares. He is looking up at a face like his._

_With bleached blonde hair._

The world comes into focus.

He struggles up. The face like his helps him. "It is good to see you, Gregor. Got some people who have missed you."

His mind struggles. "R-rex?" 

The face smiles. "Got it in one, Brother. Rex's smile fades. "Gregor, I need you to stand to. I have four other brothers that I have gotten awake. Need your help, _Vod._ Can you do that, Gregor? " He looks up at the face. At Rex. He smiles hopefully.

"I think that I can, Rex."

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft's first shot hits a fleet trooper who moved at the last minute, instead of the woman. She draws her blaster and fires at him.

He crabs sideways, out of her shot. Cut has claimed the spare blaster and has made short work of two more of the troopers.

Alarms begin to sound at the weapons fire. "Well, that has torn it, Cut."

The scientist has turned and fled after her initial shot, pulling the trooper with her. Rae Sloane has ducked behind a wall and is maintaining her ground, firing as she does. 

A part of him swells with pride at her bravery. He sees his opportunity. He fires a glancing shot at her leg. 

She goes down. He runs up on her and with a quick silent apology, fires a stun bolt before he gets to her. She collapses. He checks her. _Still breathing, airway is good._ The wound is superficial.

He lifts up the bottom portion of his bucket and kisses her on her forehead. Cut is watching him curiously as he does. "Sister of someone I fought with," he says tersely. Cut nods, requiring no further explanation.

Explosions begin to rock the station. "Looks like Rex is having all of the fun. Let's move out," Croft says.

They begin to move out. As they round a corner, they run into two very different beings. A small, gray-furred Drall stands next to a human. 

A human male with black, depthless eyes, and a scar in his hairline. Wearing an Imperial uniform. 

A face last seen asleep on a rug on the floor of Croft's room. Croft curses as other images come unbidden. He shakes his head.

As he brings his blaster up, Kolan draws his weapon and fires at him. Croft is able to move, but not quite fast enough. The blaster bolt strikes his left side. 

He staggers, but keeps his feet. He and Lawquane lay down a fusillade that causes _Kolan - that's his name,_ to shove the Drall to a side corridor. 

"Come on, Cut," he says over the helmet net, "let's find another way."

Another series of explosions rocks the station. He can feel the deep rumbling of a catastrophic build to an overload, as he is checking the wound. For once, cheap armor has worked; he can only see a slight trench on his ribs. He smiles at certain memories.

"Core breach. Boy when Rex puts his mind to it..." Cut says. "Yep. Rex, you up?" Croft asks over the pickup. "Yeah, Croft. Got someone who wants to talk to you."

"Hey, King. Fancy meeting you here." Croft smiles, his eyes tearing behind his bucket. The last connection to a young woman now gone. To a child. "I got your message, _Vod."_

"Knew you would, General. But we need to go," Gregor says. "See you on the ship, Commander." Croft says. 

"Croft, we have four other brothers in varying condition. We may not make it."

He looks at Cut. The farmer nods. "We'll move towards you and help you." Croft tells Rex.

"No. We'll make it. Go."

There are shudders as escape pods begin ejecting. "Guess the rats are abandoning," Croft starts.

_Rae._

"Cut. Gotta go do something."

"What the hell? This place is coming apart."

He looks at the clone. "I owe somebody, Cut. Can't help it."

He turns and runs back the way he came.

 _Goddamned Jedi._ He sees the young Corellian kissing an Imperial officer on her forehead. "Rex. The Jedi has gone and done something stupid."

"Shit."

~+~+~+~+~+

Dav Kolan looks at Norgrahdala. "There is somebody if I have to make sure gets off of here, Doctor. Get to the shuttle. If I am not there, tell the pilot to leave."

"No. I won't leave you, Dav. It is not my way."

Dav rolls his eyes. "I may have to carry someone, Doc. Can't carry you, too." 

She smiles. "I mean we won't leave until the last minute." He laughs. "Okay, Doc. Fair enough."

The Drall bows. "Be careful, Dav Kolan. I know that you have kept Krennic off of me. I am grateful for another few weeks of life."

"Norg...."

"Don't worry, young one. I have been on borrowed time since the war." Her dark eyes track downward. "I have a great deal to atone for," she finishes with a whisper. She turns and limps to the shuttle.

Dav curses to himself. He turns and runs to find an old friend's sister. Someone he owes his life to.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft runs back into the first chamber. Pieces of the station are falling around him, as flammable parts of the station explode into flames. _Don't know what the hell Rex used, but it is certainly getting the job done._

He sees Rae's supine form on the deck. A beam lies across her arm. He kneels beside her. He smiles as he hears her moan. He holds out his hand and lifts the beam away with the mystical energy field that has been his companion since age three. He touches the arm. The young woman moans again. He lifts her up and turns to run. 

Dav Kolan stands there, a blaster trained on him. "Put her down, rebel," he says quietly. "If I do, she'll die," Croft replies. "Then maybe I will shoot you first and then take her."

Croft smiles behind his helmet. "Might not be the best outcome for you, sport."

They stand there watching each other as more explosions are felt. "Well, the alternative is we can just stand there and glare at each other," the ex-Jedi says.

Dav smiles under the mustache. The smile actually moves to his eyes as well. He holsters his blaster. He holds out his arms. "I owe somebody who was dear to this girl a life," he says. Croft nods. "Someone who is marching far way." he says.

Dav's eyes widen, but he nods. "Yes," he says simply. Croft walks closer. Dav meets him. Croft deposits her in his arms. "Take good care of her," he says. "She is a precious reminder of someone."

Dav smiles. "She is that." They both turn. For a moment, both feel the other's pain and loss. They run.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola moves towards her blaster and manages to scoop it up to fire at Taum. She stops as two blaster bolts from the direction of the compound hit the Imperial in the kneecaps.

Another from behind her strikes the blaster. There is a roar as a sea of former prisoners engulfs the commandant. Their chief tormentor. She turns away as Taum's screams echo in the permanent night.

She grins at her two saviors, as she runs to another. "You both have been holding out on me."

Both return her grin. "I was aiming for center mass," Dek says. Dala shrugs. "Never said that I can't shoot. Just don't care to." she says.

Nola realizes that Ahsoka is pulling herself to her hand and knees. Her left arm hangs useless as a hole smokes in her left shoulder. 

Through and through. Nola realizes that the weakened bolt had still almost struck her. Something besides the strong shoulder of a huntress had bent the bolt away from her.

"Getting slow in your old age, Tano?" she snarks as she pulls the warrior into her arms. "Must be, Nola," she says. With an effort, she brings the hand of her wounded shoulder up and wipes the tears spilling down the Naboo's cheeks. Her right hand splays over her handler's back. They touch foreheads. "Hey, Tano?" Nola asks. "Yeah, No-no?" Ahsoka replies.

"You know that thing we did, that we said we needed to get out of the way? That we said we couldn't afford to be doing?"

"Well, you said that, not me," Ahsoka replies, "but yeah, I remember."

"We get back and you get healed up, we may need to do it again, to make sure. Maybe two or three times."

She feels the young warrior's lips smile against hers. "I think that can be arranged, dear." Nola touches her face and moves her lips to Ahsoka's.

She curses as she feels the ex-Jedi slide down her body and collapse to her knees, unconscious against her. She holds her steady. She smiles ruefully and reaches down to kiss the young warrior between her montrals.

Nola looks up and sees one of the CR-90s circling. She lifts her comm to her lips. "Air support, this is ground team. Friendlies are all gathered around my signal. This place needs to be sanitized. Make sure that the downed cruiser to the west is destroyed as well."

She hears the voice of Raymus Antilles. "Acknowledged, Princess," he says as she rolls her eyes at the codename that has apparently stuck, courtesy of the woman she holds up against her. "Also, be advised we have ground forces headed your way to deal with the remnants of hostiles headed your way from the south."

"Very well, Air. We are moving with refugees and wounded to the LZ."

She hears blaster fire to the south. She looks and sees masked and armored troops advancing from the landing field to the south. Armed troops led from the front by a masked figure wearing an Alderaani general's five red circles on the chest of their armor. The figure is firing a blaster with the rest of the troops.

Tears drop onto the blue and white head as she realizes the magnitude of what they had accomplished. Dala walks over to her and takes her hand in hers. The words are unspoken as they gather Ahsoka between them and begin to move to the waiting CR-90, the _Sundered Heart._ As they look between them, they see the slight smile on the unconscious ex-Jedi's face. The two women nod at each other, their eyes showing their relief.

~+~+~+~+~+

Rae Sloane opens her eyes slowly. She squints against the light and the pain. Her eyes clear. She looks up into the smiling man's face. "Dav. What happened?" she asks. "Nothing, really, Rae. Just carrying on a family tradition of sorts. Saving a Sloane's ass."

Just beyond them, a tiny Drall watches them laugh. She watches them live. Kolan catches her eye. He nods at her. She bows her head to him.

Kolan thinks on the rebel in the stormtrooper armor. A rebel who had used a term that only clones and Mandos had ever used for their dead. He looks down. A rebel, who against the odds, had known Jana Sloane.

Kolan's face grows dark. As he had charged into the office, he had seen a large beam settling on the deck. The rebel standing a foot or two away, over Rae.

Not touching the beam. Kolan shakes his head and smiles. _Can't be sure of what I saw. He may have thrown the thing over there._

 _Yeah. With his superhuman strength._ He moves the thought of metal and rebels to the back of his head as he sees Rae smiling at him. A very similar smile to one marching far away.

At the head of the others marching. _Leading by example._

~+~+~+~+~+

A trooper walks up to the masked figure wearing the mantle of command. She salutes the figure and says, "General, the Imperial resistance has been taken care of. We are setting explosives in all of the buildings that are left after the ships bombarded them. Thanks to Doctor..." She stops as the figure holds up her hand. "....the scientists, we have gathered up all data on the activities here."

The figure nods. "Thank you Captain. Were there any Imperial survivors?" The officer shakes her head. "They would not surrender," she says. 

The General nods. "Make sure there is no trace of our being here. Physically check all the Imperials for recording devices and then set off an EMP to fry any circuits when we leave." The instructions come in a modulated, unidentifiable voice.

The Captain nods. "By the way, General, the only casualty was Fulcrum. I am told that she will make a full recovery." She salutes; holds it. The General looks at her. "Next time, Captain, lead with our casualty report." The General finally touches the helmet brim in response and turns to board the grounded ship.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola and Dala take Ahsoka's arms from around their shoulders. Dek is standing in front of them, examining the wounded shoulder of Fulcrum. The young woman's eyes open. "Quit fussing over me," she mumbles.

A modulated voice from behind them says, "Looks like you need some fussing over, Fulcrum." The general's figure walks around them. The figure reaches up and pulls the helmet off. Dark hair cascades over the figure's shoulder in a neat braid as she looks at the quartet with eyes both bright and dark.

Eyes that are now laced with the steel of the woman's heart and character. Dala sees Nola, Dek, even Ahsoka dip their heads in respect. She mimics them. _If these three can show that respect, then it must be someone worthy of it._

She watches as the woman walks over to Dek and take his face in her hands. "Hello, Dek. It is so good to see you, my nephew."

The galaxy-renowned scientist has the air of a disobedient schoolboy about to be punished. "Hello, Aunt Breha. Sorry for the trouble."

The woman smiles gently, her tears belying her tone. "If you had come to us, we wouldn't have had to," she chides softly. He looks at his feet. "I know, my Queen. But I weighed the risk to you and the House. I couldn't take the risk." His eyes are sad when he looks up. "I will have to go into hiding," he says. 

"I know," Breha replies, "we can help with that." He nods in thanks. "I appreciate that, but ultimately I will have to keep it even from you, to ensure everyone's safety."

The Queen of Alderaan nods and turns to the other three. She bows to Dala as she is introduced. "I have heard your name, Lady, in connection with your refugee work. You have done exceptionally well with little resources."

Dala blushes a bright gold. "I...thank you, my lady Queen," she stammers. Breha smiles. "I think we can support your work in the future, Dala." Her eyes harden as she looks at the terrible two. 

"My problem children. You both make my heart stop with your insanity."Ahsoka and Nola have the good sense to look chastened.

At least for a moment. They don't see Breha's lips quivering. She shakes her head and pulls them both to her chest. Her lips touch them both as her tears run freely. "Thank you both for bringing my family home," she whispers into ear and montral both.

Dala smiles at the trio. A royal arm beckons her into the embrace, as it does Dek. 

They stand in a tight circle, the struggle at a standstill.

~+~+~+~+~+

Cut, Rex, and Thyla take a moment from helping the four other clones get comfortable in the main compartment as they watch Croft hold Gregor tightly. "I am glad you are alright, brother," Croft whispers.

Gregor's eyes, unfocused as they are, fill with tears. He whispers in Croft's ear, "She would have been so proud of you." He breaks free and looks Croft in the eye. "It is time to live, Jame," he says. "Not just for her. Not just for the boy. Not just for me. Not for your huntresses. But for you." He kisses Croft on the forehead.

The survivor nods. He closes his eyes. They snap open. A tiny blue and orange presence gently caresses his Force sense. The one that he felt just before they got the signal. Just for a moment. A familiar signature.

An alarm blares. "Proximity alarm," Thyla says. She runs to a repeater screen, dials it up. "Two CR-90s, heading away from Delan at high speed," she says. "They've jumped away."

The presence is gone. Croft closes his eyes and sits on a bench. He looks down at the deck, his elbows on his knees.

Gregor watches him. He has watched the play of emotions on the Corellian's face. 

His brother smiles.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano, known as Fulcrum by a very few, Snips by even fewer, and Runt by only one, dozes as she lies upright in a medbed. She feels Dek Antilles' deft hands placing bacta pads over the holes on the front and back of her left shoulder.

She smiles as she feels warm hands and lips on the bare skin of her opposite shoulder and arm. She feels Nola's head rest on her shoulder as she falls deeper into unconsciousness.

A burst of light cascades over her Force-sense. Images flow quickly into her mind's eye. They focus on one face, his warm green eyes staring into her blue. She sees a younger version rolling those green eyes.

Another version looks at her with pride, then his bearded face breaking out in laughter at her.

She sees an older version, more careworn, his eyes filled with pain as he mourns his brothers and hers.

The pictures are replaced with only sensation. A bright gold, warm green, and brilliant purple light plays into her head. It flashes, then dims.

Dims, but is still there in the back of her mind and her Force signature.

She starts awake. She realizes that she is still sitting in the medbed, its head raised. Dek, Nola, Breha, and Dala stare at her. She realizes that she is sitting up with her shirt still off, a complicated bandage on her left shoulder. 

Opposite of another scar from a blaster. A scar from when she was much younger, but already a veteran warrior. A time when she had learned many lessons.

She feels tears falling down her cheeks. She looks away. Her eyes fall on the port. In one instant, she sees a small ship speeding away from a glowing inferno. She is about to say something when the stars turn to the blue chaos of hyperspace.

She says something in her own language, a high-pitched version of a word that can only be heard by her. She says it as the brilliant, tri-colored presence disappears completely.

The four observers look at one another as they see the pain in her blue eyes. Nola's own eyes plead with the other three. They nod and each touch the young warrior's hand as they leave.

Nola Vorrserrie, onetime Separatist hostage, Naboo Handmaiden, Representative of the government of Alderaan, rebel handler, and pain in the ass to a Togruta ex-Jedi, takes Ahsoka in her arms and rocks her.

Rocks her until deep sleep finally claims her. Deep sleep with images of her dead in her mind.

The tiny presence, buried deep in her Force-sense, lies dormant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaim - (Mando'a) home


	14. Or'trikar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or'trikar - (Mando'a) grief.
> 
> Pain and then hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up on this one.

Rex smiles as she sees Suu, Shaeeah, and Jek cling tightly to Gregor. His brother's eyes are closed, much as they had been when the former commando had greeted his general. Rex can imagine the memories that are playing on his eyelids.

He hears a noise in the barn as Cut settles the four older clones into warm bedrolls. He will be making a trip to the settlement to a doctor and his battered meddroid that they can trust to look them over. To remove their chips, if they haven't already been taken.

They will solve the issue of what to do and where to send their new brothers after. Rex's face darkens as he looks around. Croft is nowhere to be found.

The Corellian ex-Jedi had been silent after holding Gregor close to him. Rex had seen him sitting on the bench alone. Staring at the deck. His eyes on the past.

He turns back to the house. As he does, his eyes track over the lonely tree on the rise. His eyes soften as he sees the Storm-King sitting on the hill.

Sitting in front of a small stone resting in front of the tree. On a hill where his life began again after so much loss and death.

Where that life is now in limbo.

He feels Gregor walk up next to him. Gregor's eyes focus on the figure. The golden-brown eyes soften. 

"I wondered if he would be able to go up there. He has never been up there. Even when we laid her to rest. He couldn't bring himself to go up there," Gregor says.

Rex nods. "That doesn't gel with what I know of him. The man I met at the beginning of the war." He smiles tightly. "The man who my Commander loved and respected. I wouldn't have thought that he would've been unable to go up there."

His face darkens. "Or who would've deserted a brother and his cause."

Gregor's own eyes stare at Rex. He looks down; is silent for a moment. "Rex, you are the best among us. I respect you more than any brother I know." He turns and squares his body to the Captain. "If you were anyone else, I would be pounding you into a bloody pulp right now."

Rex's eyebrows rise into his blonde hairline. He turns to his brother and raises his hands, palm out. "Brother, I...."

"You don't know what the hell you are talking about. What happened to him, and Lana. To me."

His eyes close. "You don't know what it took for him to walk on another RMSU after what happened." He laughs. "You don't know how hard it is for him to look at another brother without wanting to either run or destroy him. Not just for the Jedi." He touches the shoulder of his brother. "Not just for Commander Tano, who he respected and loved as much as she did him."

Rex listens. "It is for what those former brothers caused him to do." 

"What former brothers?" Rex asks. 

Gregor looks down. "Eight of his former commandos. Men he had lead and had died every time they were hurt. Or when they marched far away. The only survivors of his original commando force."

"They destroyed him more than any other of the brothers who killed his Master. Or Commander Tano."

~+~+~+~+~+

J'ohlana Wren struggles to make sure that her swollen belly does not chafe under the breastplate of her _beskar'gam._ She curses as it slides down on the belly. "One more month, asshole," she says, throwing the nearest blunt object at the smirking Corellian. He dodges and crabs towards her. He smothers her curses with a deep kiss. They both breathe each other in. "One more month and I can be free of your parasite," she laughs. "My parasite? As I recall, you threw me down on the ground that night and kriffed my brains out." 

"You and I have different versions of that night, sport. I was innocently knitting and you came in and pulled that ridiculous little piece of flesh out and waved it in my face."

He stops and looks seriously at her. "Don't call it little," he says with a straight face. His eyes smile before his lips. "You've never knitted a damned thing in your life. Plus, if you were knitting, you were naked when you were doing it. And, I might add, you have never resisted it when I waved it around."

Her expression grow soft as she looks at those eyes. "If I could move faster, I would take you inside of me in a heartbeat, my love." 

Croft kisses her. Jo's tongue gently caresses his. "We don't have a lot of time, love. I would...."

She places her fingers on his lips. "No. We need to get your _Vod_ fixed up. We'll both sleep better when he has that chip out and can live free."

He looks down. "I know, _cyar'ika._ But I wish you would hang the armor up for a while. At least until you have recovered from his birth," he says. She smiles softly and kisses him. "I will. This is my last job, _cyare_. I will give birth to our heart," she pauses and wipes her tears, "our little man, and be back to cover you and Gregor'ika before you know, it."

"Never doubted it, my love." Croft says. His smile fades. "I think that this should be our last job for a while, anyway. I think we have been coming close to getting caught." After a moment of searching his eyes, she finally nods.

"I thought as much, love. I have already let Fulcrum know we are going dark. But this one fell into our laps. I saw your face when you recognized him. Your's and Gregor's both. I knew we did right in answering that informant's call."

They turn and see Gregor standing at the hatch way, smiling. "Hate to break this up, kids, but we're docked. Bozo is good to go." He looks at Jo. "Lana, please stay on the ship. You know that I have both of your backs. I will go with King. You can be the getaway driver if we need one."

She walks over and touches his face. "No, Gregor, my lad. My place is with him. At least for one more job."

She turns. She smiles as she sees Croft gently helping a clone to the hatch. His hands are bound in front of him, as a precaution until the chip is removed. "Come on, Bozo. You'll soon be free. We'll all sing together again." The clone looks at him sadly. "Okay, Bard. Whatever you say."

Croft starts at the name from his past. He looks at his former comm/tech specialist. His trademark spiky, unruly hair is as it was when he last saw him four years ago. When Croft had been relieved of command and the force had been broken up. His ears, which had earned him a version of a Siniteen name from one of the instructors, still stuck out at right angles. The butt of many jokes, he had worked harder than any other trooper in the Commando task force to prove himself to Croft and Drop, the gargantuan, gruff Null senior NCO.

They had both been impressed by the young trooper's drive. Of course, Drop had never told him to his face.

Bozo had proven himself to another senior NCO, as well. He and Peck, the senior medic, had gently fallen into each other over a period of days. Croft's eyes grow sad as he thinks of times when he saw the two looking at one another and stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking.

They didn't have to worry. Their brothers, the ship's company, and their officers had accepted them from the start.

All save one. Alpha-17, the other Captain in the small force. An Alpha who hated all of the 'normal' ARC troopers in the command.

Croft touches Bozo on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Bozo. We will keep looking for Peck. We will find out what happened."

The young clone stares at him vacantly. When they had come across him, on a tip from one of their lookouts, the trooper had reacted as most chipped clones did if they found out Croft was a Jedi.

Which is to say, violently. Jo had solved the problem as she usually had, butt-stroking the soldier with her wedding gift. 

Croft takes his arm. He lifts his bucket with his left hand. Before he places it on his head, he reaches over and kisses his wife. His love. The mother of his child. Their eyes lock on one another. Croft watches her dark eyes until they are covered with her _buy'ce._

She palms the hatch open.

~+~+~+~+~+

Gregor sits back in the pilot's chair of the _Beskad._ His eyes close as he thinks of the look on the two lovers' faces as they covered them with their helmets. As he thinks of the biter that he will spoil and love as his _ba'vodu._ Gregor opens his eyes and sighs. _You are getting as bad as them, vod. Getting all dewy-eyed looking at each other. Croft's goofy smile as he listens to her belly._

He activates the sensors for the station on a whim. RMSU# 15 is no different than the other Republic medical stations spread throughout the galaxy.

Except that it has a new purpose. One provided by the mysterious operative known as Fulcrum and Gregor's slicer contact, Touchstone.

One staffed with a dozen meddroids and twenty or so unchipped, freed brothers. All for the purpose to free more.

His eyes narrow as he looks at the readings.

_No signals from the droids. Lifeform signs are....odd._

He lowers the pilot's chair.

As he dons his commando bucket and picks up his DC-17m, he starts to key his mike. Just as he does, a voice sounds in his ear. "We've got a big problem, Gregor." 

He turns to the hatch.

~+~+~+~+~+

As soon as Jo, Croft and Bozo walk into the station, they know something is wrong. 

Only the dim emergency lights line the passageway. 

Croft hears the sound of Jo checking her weapons. He mimics her. "Bozo, I need you to sit here and wait on this," he says through the external speaker.

Bozo immediately starts to argue. "Give me a weapon, Bard. I will back your play," he says, a serious look on his face.

"Sorry, love, we can't do that," Jo answers. "At least not until we get that doo-dad out of your brain." She smirks. "I am kind of fond of his ass. Would hate for you to put a blaster round in it."

She can sense an eyeroll behind the other helmet. After a moment, Bozo nods in agreement. He sits on a bench near the entry point. Croft touches his cheek. "We'll be back, brother," he says simply.

Jo and Croft immediately move out, easily moving into a covering mode; creeping slowly back to back through the dimly lit hallway.

They have traveled about fifty meters when they find their first bodies.

Three clones, hit in both the back and front by blaster fire. All with single bolts to their forehead. To make sure.

Within the next fifty meters, they have come upon five more clone bodies. These bound and lying in front of a blaster-pierced bulkhead. The same single, precise bolt in their heads.

Four meddroids lie near them, all blasted apart. Jo notices something as Croft is looking at the bodies. 

A single card dropped on one of the droids. A card bearing the Aurabesh characters for the number seventeen. Absently, she puts the card in a pouch on her belt. "Jame, I think that we need to split up. I would rather hit whoever did this by surprise and from two sides."

"J'ohlana, that is a shitty idea. We don't know what we are up against. We shouldn't divide our force."

"Love, these assholes know what they are doing. We need to hit them from more angles. Besides," she says with grin that he can hear in her voice, "let's get Gregor in the party. We have remotes to get the ship started and ready."

She pulls her bucket off. "You know I am right, Jame. We have surprise on our side." He pulls his own helmet off. His eyes are troubled. After a moment, he nods. "Okay, Jo. We will do it your way. But if anything feels hinky, get the hell out of there."

"Yes, dad," she snarks. He doesn't smile. He walks up to her and takes her face in his hands. She looks down. "It'll be okay, love. She looks him in the eye and kisses him. When they break the kiss, she rests her forehead on his with her eyes closed. "I'll see you when I see you, _ner riduur,"_ she whispers. " _Ner be'ad buir."_

"I love you," he says. She pushes him away and dons her bucket. "I love you more," comes over his earpiece. She turns and is gone. He pulls his helmet over his face, his face set in a grim look.

The insistent buzzing at the base of his skull cuts through his consciousness. He curses himself. He turns and follows her at a brisk run.

He has only gone two meters before he hears the sound of blaster fire.

~+~+~+~+~+

Jo moves quickly, but methodically into the control room. Her eyes track over the dead bodies of more clones and droids. She scans the corridors with her sensors. She can detect nothing.

She looks down at the console. The main power is deactivated. She looks around the room another time, then sets her carbine down. She reaches up, hesitates for a microsecond, and pulls her sable _buy'ce_ off. She begins to flip switches to bring the station back to life. As she starts to turn the last dial, she senses movement behind her.

She leaps to her right, pulling her Westar, twisting, and firing.

The bolt splits the helmet of an Imperial stormtrooper.

Just as another bolt lances into her lower leg.

She falls heavily on her front. She cries out as she feels her stomach compress.

J'ohlana Wren feels a flurry of kicking in her abdomen as she opens fire on the other troopers entering the room.

She manages to jump to her feet and grab her carbine to add to her fusilade. She sees that her bucket has been knocked off of the console. In spite of her wounded leg, she is able to jump on the console then fall behind it. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees other figures entering the room. Figures in different, black armor. Unhelmeted, except for data monacles and eye protection.

Figures with the faces of Gregor and the corpses around her.

She doesn't hesitate. J'ohlana Wren opens fire on them, even as two more bolts strike her arm and her chest plate. Her chest plate that has shifted down. The _beskar'gam_ rings like a gong.

She bites her lip against the pain. She sees more regular stormtroopers to her left. Her weapons make short work of the quintet. 

More pain from her middle radiates through her body. Sobs escape her lips.

She screams as she opens fire. A single name.

~+~+~+~+~+

Croft hears the scream. As he turns a corner, he has to leap sideways as a blaster bolt occupies the space where he had just been. He curses as he sees Bozo, free of his binders, pointing an Imperial commando weapon at him. Two stormtroopers stand behind him.

The pieces fall into place. The informant finding a trooper. A trooper who had seemingly deserted the Empire and needed help. A trooper in danger; they had to act quickly.

They had jumped at the chance with no hesitation. As they always had. To free their brothers.

To heal themselves. For a year, it had worked.

He steels himself. His DC-15S opens up on his former _Vod_ and the troopers. He makes a choice. He drops the blaster as his Master's weapon flies into his hand. He charges the three troopers.

As he does; as the scream echoes in his mind, a red haze circles the edge of his vision. Childhood lessons remind him of his danger.

He embraces it, but keeps it at the edge of his consciousness.

As he advances, Croft sees the expression on his former brother's face. Bozo turns and runs as the two stormtroopers continue to fire.

~+~+~+~+~+

The man known as Taliesin Croft enters the control room. Stormtrooper bodies, as well as the bodies of his rescued clones litter the area.

He sees a group of clones, dressed in all black armor surrounding a figure lying on the deck. They look up. All of them familiar. 

The survivors of Task Force Bard. The men who had shared his life for over two years. His eyes track down to the figure on the deck.His heart explodes as he sees the black clad legs, with splashes of orange.

A larger black-clad clone stands at the head of the group. A part of Croft, the part that is still human recognizes the Alpha. A brother who had fought with him, had sung and bled with him, as well points a blaster at the ground.

At the figure. 

Seventeen looks up, sees Croft, who has pulled his bucket off. His eyes widen, then smile. Croft starts towards the group.

Seventeen fires.

Taliesin Croft truly dies as he gives into the red haze. The haze completely encapsulates his vision.

~+~+~+~+~+

Gregor increases his speed as he runs towards the sound of screaming and blasterfire. The light and the noise stops. He charges into the room.

Into a charnel house. 

His brother. His general. His Jedi kneels with a deactivated lightsaber near a slight figure. 

Near his life. 

His eyes are open and staring. Staring at the end of his life. 

Gregor's eyes tear. The liquid spills down his cheeks as he sits next to the man. He looks around at the seven bodies that lay around J'ohlana and his brother.

His tears increase as he recognizes them, one and all. All brothers who he had fought with for nearly two years. That he had bled with, and grew. Had mourned their dead - very few, compared to other units. Men he had sung the songs of war from their imprinted culture.

With the man now kneeling next to them.

He starts a new litany. _Nerf, Pecker, Bozo, Triple Threat, Mope, Reach, Banger._ He trails off as he realizes what they had done.

All of them bear blaster wounds. He sees no such weapon near the Storm King.

Only a lightsaber, borne in the reverse grip that he favored for deflecting blaster bolts.

Close to two dozen regular Imperial troopers lie around the compartment as well. Some with blaster bolts in their bodies. Direct bolts, not deflected.

Others with lightsaber wounds. _They must've come after he did for his brothers,_ Gregor thinks to himself.

He looks at two clones in particular. One a healer, a blaster in his hand. The other, a younger clone. The love of that medic's life. Dead with no blaster in his hand. Their hands nearly touch.

Gregor's experienced eye can tell that the bolt that had ended Bozo had come from Peck's weapon.

He hears blaster fire from several compartments off of the control room. He wipes his tears and picks up his DC-17m. He sets his jaw. Commander Gregor of the Grand Army of the Republic, commando units, walks forward to battle. He leaves his brother and his sister behind.

He leaves his former brothers behind.

~+~+~+~+~+

The Imperial officer known as Alpha-17 runs from the maelstrom in the control room. He knew that he had to get away. To spread the word that there was a live Jedi in the galaxy.

Perhaps that would bring him back into favor with the Emperor after his perceived failures of his special Alpha group around the time of the death of the Jedi. Perhaps even restore his former rank of Commander.

He rounds a corner near a paired set of airlocks. His eyes widen as he sees both locks occupied.

Where only his ship had been.

Seventeen sees several of the Imperial stormtroopers, the regular troopers that his Commander had instructed him to bring for reinforcements, lying dead around the lock. He incongruously smiles as he thinks that he had been right at their uselessness for this mission.

He hears a noise to his side. He turns. A large Imperial trooper stands there. The largest he has ever seen.

A voice issues from the vocoder of the helmet. "Hello, Alpha plank. I saw what you did to our General. It is past time for you to die."

~+~+~+~+~+

Gregor skids to a halt in the airlock area. He is greeted by the sight of a large figure holding the only slightly smaller figure of Alpha-17 off of the ground in the crook of his arm. His other arm is wrapped around the Imperial's head and is twisting in the opposite direction. Gregor can see Alpha's color changing and his eyes bulging.

There is a sickening sound and the Imperial's head falls limp.

In a different position from normal.

The large trooper drops the Alpha. He turns to Gregor and removes his helmet.

The amber eyes gaze at Gregor calmly. His eyes are not angry, but sad. Sad for those marching far away.

For a missing Jedi who had taught him the meaning of love. For the Jedi in the control room.

"Hello, Drop," Gregor says.

The large trooper, one of a very small class known as the Null-ARCs, smiles slightly. "Hello, Gregor. It's good to see you, my brother."

"Not that I am not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"

Drop, known as Null-13 in another life, exhales. "Fulcrum called. They couldn't reach you. They got word of an Imperial op near the RMSU. What were you doing with a clone? Fulcrum didn't give you that intel."

Gregor looks down, his tears building. "We kind of fell into it, had to act or he would've been taken. Our informant....."

"What, Gregor?" Drop asks. "The informant was one we had used before. Dammit..."

"I don't think it was the informant, Commander. Bozo was the bait."

"Then we better warn the informant. Fulcrum, too."

"They're aware. I commed them after I ran into this lot. I think we may be done for awhile."

 _Some of us for good,_ Gregor thinks, but doesn't say. His mind's eye is on the man sitting catatonic in another compartment.

He and Gregor cross to one another and engulf each other in an embrace. As they break away, he notices Gregor's tears. He looks down. "How is he?" he asks quietly.

"I don't know how he will survive this one," Gregor replies. Drop's grin is bittersweet. "He will survive, Gregor. He always does. Never count that boy out."

"Drop, his wife and boy are in there lying dead. I don't...."

The larger brother puts his hand on Gregor's cheek. "You told me that he survived watching Ti die. That his hunt-sister is most probably dead. All of the Jedi, but those the most. He still got up and with a little prodding, got back into the fight."

"Yeah, prodding by the young woman lying in there."

Drop's own eyes tear. "Go, Gregor. I'll activate the spike that you loaded in the network a while ago. I talked to Touchstone. No video or transmissions came from here. I have already set charges. Get them out of here. I'll take care of the rest."

"Drop, I did what you asked. I never told them that you got me into this thing; that you sent me to Touchstone." He pauses, gathering himself. "J'ohlana was already thinking about this. She is the one that found Fulcrum." Gregor notices for the first time, the blaster wound in Drop's chest. He goes to see to it. Drop waves him away. 

Gregor nods, accepting the stubbornness. "I think that you could help Croft heal if he..."

"No!" Drop says vehemently. "I have my own search. He can't know that I am alive." He calms. "It is better this way, brother. Trust me."

After a moment, he nods. "I hope you find her, Drop," he says quietly. The two troopers embrace. "May the Force be with you, Gregor, _ner vod."_ Drop says. 

As he turns to leave, he sees the large clone pick up a small girl, no more than ten years old at the airlock of his ship. He squeezes her to him as Gregor hears the clone's sobbing. The girl looks at Gregor with a solemn look as she whispers _buir_ in Drop's ear and runs her fingers through his hair. He smiles at the look that he remembered so well from a warm, but reserved Chalactan Jedi.

A woman who had come to look on the large, fierce Null with adoration. The little girl gazes at him. He realizes that her eyes are different colors. One, dark blue, the other, the amber of her father.

He lifts his hand to her. She nods and gives a small, but absolutely beautiful smile.

Gregor turns and walks back to the control room. He passes the bodies. He kneels before the slight figure. He gathers her in his arms. He kisses her forehead as he does. 

Croft does not move. "Jame," Gregor says, using the name that only a few know. His birth-name. "It is time to go, _ner vod._ I have your love. We will take her to rest. Her and your boy."

For a moment, he is afraid that the man will ignore him. But, without expression, the Storm-King stands up. He holds his hand out. His bucket flies into his hand. He dons the helmet over his blank eyes.

Another outstretched hand and J'ohlana's bucket is in his hand, as are her weapons slung on him.

He reaches over and touches her cheek; her lips. His left hand, the one with the _beskar  
_ ring, closes her dark eyes.

~+~+~+~+~+

The Corellian sits at the stone. He had never seen the stone before today. It was plain with only three symbols on it. One, the symbol of Clan Wren. The other, the sigil of Clan Shysa. The last a symbol of an Elder House from a world of gamblers and engineers and pilots. All three interlocked.

The man known by many names in his short life smiles gently at the symbols and the orange blossoms at the base. "Hello, _cyar'ika._ It's been awhile, my love." He manages to fight the tears. "I have missed you so much."

"I am so sorry. I have not been keeping your memory well. I have Remembered you, every day. You and Shak."

"But I have wallowed in my grief and pain. Something you never allowed me to do when the Jedi died."

The stone is silent. "I realize now that you lived your own full life. Not just for me, but for yourself. You didn't just live to inspire me and to cause me pain when you died. You....." He chokes. "You lived."

He is silent for a while, listening to the breeze that has come up since he had fallen silent. He smiles. "Several people who I love have kicked my ass for you. I am living. I got our Gregor'ika back." He looks wistful. "We got him back."

His hand reaches out and touches the low mound of earth that is at the base of the stone. "It is time for me to do more than just live. I don't know how, but I am getting back into the fight. I cannot sit and let the galaxy burn."

His eyes are filled with a light that hasn't been there. "My master and my hunt-sister and you taught me better than that."

"I hope that you find them and you can share a few laughs at my expense. They will both care for you and Shak."

He falls silent. He looks up. Rex is walking up the pathway, a fresh bundle of orange blossoms in his hand. Croft makes to stand, but Rex motions him to sit. Rex places the flowers at the stone and bows his head.

He turns and sits next to Croft. He doesn't hesitate. "Gregor told me what happened. He told me what he saw on the footage before he wiped it."

Rex holds his hand up as he sees the ex-Jedi's expression. "I was wrong about you. I now know why you didn't want to get involved. Not because you were a coward, but because you are the man that my Jedi respected, and yes, even loved, so much."

Croft closes his eyes. "I was on Umbara," Rex continues. "I saw a Jedi Fall." He touches Croft's shoulder. "What you did was nowhere near that. Yes, you killed your brothers and mine. But in reality, they were no longer who you knew. They weren't themselves. You were killing the chip, not them."

"General Croft, you are in no more danger of Falling than anyone I know. I saw you pick yourself up even though you were afraid of what you could do, to help me save our brothers. That is not the action of a Sith, or a darksider, or whatever the hell you want to call it." He takes the Corellian's hand in his. "That is the action of the man that my Jedi respected. That helped turn her into the amazing warrior and person that she was."

Croft shakes his head. "No. That was all her."

Rex laughs. "Damned Jedi. You and Anakin both shaped the clay that was already there. She took what you both taught and used what she needed and dispensed with the poodoo. Of which there was a great deal."

For a moment, they share the laughter and memory. Croft grows serious again. "Rex, when we left the planet, I had something in my Force-sense. Something I hadn't felt since Ahsoka was last with me. Just for an instant."

Rex listens. "Do you think.....?"

Croft shakes his head. "Don't know. It was just for an instant and then it was gone." He smiles ruefully. "It may have just been wishful thinking. But for some reason, I don't feel as dead and empty inside."

Rex stands and pulls Croft up. "Then hang on to that feeling, Tal. Whatever it is." 

Croft nods as he looks at the stone. "What are you going to do, General?" Rex asks. He looks at the Captain. "Going back to Takodana. But not to be a bartender again. Something is calling me there. I will go and try to figure out how to get back into the fight. You?"

"Gregor needs help to heal. To recover. I am taking him somewhere and pulling the planet in after us, so that he can heal." He smiles tightly. "I think that my time is past in this fight. I have some thinking to do."

"I will tell you one thing, Taliesin Croft," he says with an edge. "You are an asshole. Most Jedi are in some way or another." Croft snorts. "After the war and everything, I can't say this about many Jedi. Maybe only three others. But I would follow you anywhere you need."

Croft brings him into an embrace. "Go, Rex. Take Gregor and rest. You've earned it. More than most."

Rex returns the embrace. "Some would say that you have, as well, General."

"Nope. Got things to do."

They break apart. They both give one last look at the stone.

They turn and walk to their different futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ner be'ad buir - (Mando'a) My child's father.


	15. Su cuy'gar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su cuy'gar - (Mando'a) 'You're still alive.'
> 
> Living and Growing.
> 
> The Empire never forgets.
> 
> Some within have memory lapses though.

Nola Vorrserrie starts awake. She grimaces at the ache in her neck from the awkward position she finds herself in.

She had fallen asleep in a chair designed apparently by an Imperial for its discomfort potential. _Remind me to get rid of this damned thing._

She smiles at what woke her up.

A slight noise from the sleeping young woman in the bed. Her own comfortable large bed in her quarters in the Palace.

Her smile widens at the peaceful, calm expression on the warrior's face. As if on cue, the blue eyes open and look around the room, as if remembering where she was at. She sees the eyes lock on her. A gentle smile flows onto the bronze-orange features.

Features no longer pale and looking out from a bacta tank.

For the first time in several days, the smile and the eyes are without pain. "Hey, Tano," Nola says. She rises from the chair and walks over to the bed. Without a word, she climbs in and moves closer to the huntress. Her fingers move gently over the forehead markings. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Head isn't hurting for the first time in days. Shoulder is only throbbing a bit. I have to pee." Her smile takes on a mischievous bent. "Kinda horny, too. Seem to recall somebody promising to rock my universe."

"Don't know what you're talking about. I'll check with some of the others."

Ahsoka tries to lift herself up. Nola laughs. She takes both hands in hers and lifts the warrior up. "Guess I have to do everything for you, Tano. As usual," she says as they make their way to the 'fresher.

As she settles the huntress back in the bed, she reaches down and kisses her patient. When they break free, Nola smiles, "You may have to take a rain check on my awesomeness, Tano. Doctor said that you don't need any strenuous activity for a few days."

"Who said you would be strenuous? You would be my light work," the warrior snarks. "You keep thinking that, girl, when your ass is back in bacta cause you strained something." She lays back in the bed. Ahsoka moves against her and rests her head on Nola's shoulder. They are silent as they think about the events of the last week.

"You okay, Nola?" Ahsoka asks. The Naboo is silent, her eyes closed. Finally, she opens them and looks over at the head pillowed on her shoulder. The sleeping top that Ahsoka is wearing is unbuttoned. Nola can see the healing wound on her left shoulder. "Yeah. Just thinking about someone I care about who takes so many goddamned risks. Someone I wish could go and hunt on Shili or something. Or take up giving swimming lessons to princesses. Or lie here in my arms occasionally and I never have to worry about whether or not I will see her again." Her eyes grow sad. "I think about why I can't bring myself to do this," she gestures over their interlinked bodies, "more than once or twice every couple of years or so." She puts her hand inside the top. She touches the healing wound, then slowly moves her hand over the warrior's heart.

There is an intake of breath at her touch. Her thumb strokes gently. "Nola..." Ahsoka starts. She stops the hand with hers. The Naboo shakes her head. 

"Someone who has fought her battles and can rest," she finishes.

It is Ahsoka's turn to be silent. After several moments, she lifts her other hand and runs her fingers over Nola's cheek. Through her hair. The slow, soft touches lull the fixer and calm her. She looks in her responsibility's blue eyes. "I know, sweetie," Tano says, "I know it is hard on the people who care about me. I know that there are not many in the galaxy who do." She rests her forehead on Nola's. "I am grateful for whatever light that you will give me. That you can give me. Whether it is giving me shit over breakfast food, or taking me to task for something stupid I have done, or holding me when I shout dead people's names in the night. Or this."

"But this is what I am meant to do. What I have to do. What I can do." She closes her eyes again. "I am not a fixer like you, unless it involves machinery. I am not a politician like Bail."

"What I am is a protector. It is what I was born to do."

Unaccountably, another young Jedi of her acquaintance comes to her mind. She smiles gently as her memory sees him standing in a business suit, attempting to cut binders off of himself with his own lightsaber in her cell when she thought that she had been forgotten. Of his eyes when he explained what his clone troopers meant to him.

"You sell yourself short, Fulcrum," Nola says. "You have already built an incredible network. You didn't just do that with your lightsaber."

Ahsoka pulls her hand away. The young huntress squeezes her eyes shut. For just an instant, she looks younger even than she is. She pulls up and positions her pillows against the headboard. She leans back against them. She looks down.

Nola quietly pulls herself up and sits across from her. She watches her expectantly. Ahsoka opens her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I was part of the Order that failed the galaxy," she whispers. Nola has to strain to hear her. "We were too blind to see what was coming. We, as much as Palpatine, are responsible for the Empire."

Nola knees her way towards her and lifts up. She straddles the fighter's legs. Ahsoka pulls her close. "You failed no one, Ahsoka. You were only a little bit more than a child. As I recalled, the Order failed you." She tightens her grip on the ex-Jedi. She hears her whisper in her ear. "I left. I could've gone back and fought with them."

Nola pushes her away. "Yeah, and you could've died then, as well."

She climbs off of the ex-Jedi. She lays next to her against the headboard. She crosses her arms.Her anger simmers. "I know that you have to do what you are doing, Ahsoka. I do, too, in my own way. But just remember there are people that care about you on this world. Me. Breha. Even Bail, who has to look at the big picture. He knows that he could be sending you to your death. He was never meant to be a general that had to send people out like that."

Ahsoka is silent. She looks down and sees her sleep attire. Her eyes widen at the designs. She looks at Nola with narrowed eyes. "Why in the hell am I wearing pajamas with pink tookas all over them?" she asks dangerously. "Why am I wearing pajamas at all?"

Nola's anger dissipates instantly. She smirks. "You would have to ask Her Highness, the Princess Royal of the Elder House of Alderaan, Tano." Ahsoka's eyes widen. "She said, and I quote - _I want 'Soka to be warm so she can get well and she can teach me how to swim like she does."_ Nola smiles gently as she sees the warrior's blue eyes glisten. 

"Don't think that you are off the hook, Tano, with the little terror's parents. She also declared that she would wear the same thing that 'Soka does when she swims."

Ahsoka looks at the ceiling, then Smirks. "Guess my work here is done. I have corrupted a Princess into skinny-dipping."

Nola pulls up beside her. Ahsoka and she settle into the bed. They turn and face each other as the lights dim. Nola kisses her operative again. She places her hand on the young Togruta's hip. "If you want, Ahsoka, I might....."

She feels the warrior's lips smile against hers. "We might better wait, No-no. I am afraid I might fall asleep on you, and it wouldn't be from my usual boredom." Nola snorts. "Might not be averse to getting woken up with the sun, though," Ahsoka finishes. She looks the younger woman in her dark eyes. _Younger by all of two years._ "If this is my one time for the next two years, I want to make it count."

As they settle into rest, Ahsoka feels Nola's breathing become regular. 

She lies awake, thinking of the sensation of the brilliant tri-colored light at the edge of her consciousness. At the edge of her Force sense. 

Her eyes grow heavy as she tries to glean any meaning from the presence.

~+~+~+~+~+

Maz Kanata watches as her ex-bartender packs a bag. She smiles gently at the new strength of purpose. 

At his life. 

"So, love, it is good to see you living again. I can see it in your eyes."

Croft smiles gently. "Guess you had something to do with that?" 

She laughs. "The Force works in mysterious ways, young one." She is standing on the bed near his bag. The old pirate runs her hand through his gray hair.

"What will you do, King?"

"Don't know, Maz." He contemplates the armor lying on the bed next to his bag. Armor made with love from a warrior's own hands. His hand rests on a single predator's tooth hanging from his gunbelt. One unlike the teeth that decorate the leather. "I owe it to my loves...." He centers himself. "to my loves who are marching far away. I have to do something to get back into the fight." He straightens and looks at her, his crooked grin intact. "I wouldn't mind seeing if I could buy that ship that you sabotaged on me."

Maz grows pensive. "I would, love, but I think that someone is about to walk through that door who is going to change your life." His eyes grow wide, as a sudden familiar warmth rushes through his body. He turns around.

His salvation stands there, tears filling her eyes. 

Daaineran Faygan's eyes are black with joy and pain. So many emotions.

Maz's heart leaps as she sees them. She slips from her perch and walks out past the young woman. She touches her on her hand as she passes by.

The man once known as Taliesin Croft can barely speak. "Dani....." he manages.

"Heart of my heart," she whispers. Three steps and they are in each other's arms. Their lips touch; they meld. They touch each other's faces as their tears mingle.

They face the pain the only way that her mother's people would.

 _Living life to the fullest._ As they mourn one that meant so much to both of them. That shaped them both, each in their own way. They fall into each other, their joy and grief overwhelming them in equal parts.

~+~+~+~+~+

Maz Kanata smiles in the bar as a low murmur of uncertainty ripples among the clientele at the feelings they are experiencing. She reaches out with her connection to the Force and calms her own emotions. She lets it bleed to calm her customers.

She lets the joy, relief, and love flow over her. She wipes a tear from under her goggles.

They both live.

~+~+~+~+~+

Orson Krennic looks into the slightly demented aquamarine eyes of Noar Zan Arbor as she reports. He rubs the bridge of his nose as he listens. It has been three weeks since the destruction of their experiment station. Since the freeing of the possible Togruta subjects. 

"So let me get this straight, Dr. Zan Arbor. You were only able to save the tissue of ten of the dead clones?" 

"Yes, Commander. I only managed to escape with my life. Fortunately, the room with the stasis chambers was rigged as an evacuation chamber."

Krennic turns to the Kaminoan waiting patiently. Dr. Tora Ga, a former Kaminoan scientist, later an exile at the behest of the traitorous Jedi Master Shaak Ti, looks at him placidly. "So how does this affect the program?"

Ga looks at him, is silent. "With only ten units, we will only be able to harvest enough tissue to go through the enhancement process for maybe one or two thousand over the lifetime of the program. If the other clones on the station and at the camp, as well as the ones that we had information on, had not been lost, we could have used their cells and those of the Togruta to enhance the entire stormtrooper corps."

Krennic looks at the Kaminoan with loathing. "Is there any chance that your people will let us in to their template databases?"

"None, whatsoever, Commander." The Kaminoan blinks. "Since I am working with the Empire, I am essentially an exile."

Krennic nods. The Kaminoan leaves the room, the same placid look on his face. Krennic looks at Noar and at Agent Kallus. "I think that he has outlived his usefulness. If we had the other hundred clones or so that we had in our sights, we might be having a different conversation."

Kallus nods. He starts to walk after the Kaminoan. "Agent Kallus, if you please," Noar Zan Arbor says. "I will handle this personally." Kallus looks at her with raised eyebrows. Krennic nods imperceptibly.

"I think we are done here. Dr. Zan Arbor, finish the work on the Deathtroopers. Start the testing of the best stormtrooper candidates already in place and in the Imperial academies. The one being established on Mandalore might be a good start." He pauses, gathers his slightly ridiculous white cloak. "I want twenty of the first units for myself. Distribute the rest among the highest ranking Moffs and Grand Moffs, if they will have them, when they are ready." He closes his eyes for a moment. "Keep trying to duplicate the extra tissue so that it will be viable for the extended life of the program."

Noar nods. "It will be done, Commander," she says. "I am headed back to Coruscant. I have spent too much time on this little sideshow. In addition to being the Chief Geneticist for Imperial Weapons Research, Dr. Zan Arbor, you are now our Director of Special Projects. Finish this and turn it over to someone else. We have big things in mind for you." The young woman bows and leaves the room, heading towards the Kaminoan's lab.

Krennic turns to Kallus. "Where the hell is Kolan?" he says shortly. "We don't know. He has checked in with Deputy Director Yularen; that has satisfied the good Admiral. He did send a transmission saying that the Drall, Norgrahdala met with an unfortunate end during the destruction of the station. He said he is still looking for Antilles."

Krennic nods. "Well, at least one loose end was tied up." He looks at Kallus, his colorless gaze staring into Kallus' chiseled features. "And you, Agent Kallus? What are your plans?"

The tall agent practically vibrates with his anger. "I am being returned to general ISB duties. I have a mission on Naboo."

Krennic can sense the bitterness. "What about Kolan?"

Kallus' lips tighten over the whiskers. "He is being promoted to station chief. On Alderaan."

Orson Krennic nods and turns away. His colorless eyes crinkle in a smile as he feels the bitterness and anger of the ISB agent.

~+~+~+~+~+

Tora Ga stands at the table in his lab. His placid face is glowing with pride and pleasure. He thinks of that Jedi bitch's serene face as she blocked him at every turn.

Of her continued serenity when he was demoted and transferred by the Prime Minister to a medical station in the Outer Rim.

_Who has the last laugh now, traitor?_

Ga is at the pinnacle of power. His dark eyes glow at his fellow Kaminoan's short-sightedness. He hears the door open behind him.

He turns and sees the human scientist, Zan Arbor standing there. Ga is aware of the mother's reputation. He dips his head at her. As he comes back up, his dark eyes widen in terror.

He is staring into a blaster muzzle. Held steady in her hand in front of her face.

A face that bears a slight, otherworldly smile. Her blue-green eyes have a demented cast.

There is a flash and a brief pain. Then darkness. As he dies, he thinks he sees a serene Jedi looking at him. With sadness in her eyes.

Noar looks down at the Kaminoan, a smoking hole between his fixed dark eyes. She continues to smile as she thinks of her mother.

~+~+~+~+~+

Dani Faygan looks down at the sleeping Corellian. Her lips quirk into a smile as she thinks of the last two weeks. 

They had spent the weeks healing and remembering their dead. Of living. They had both healed. There had been comforts for both, not just of the physical kind. She had shared the healing properties of her resonance.

He had shared gift memories of her heart-bond. Of the lessons that she had taught him. Of the unconditional acceptance she had shown him, even when he had failed her and himself.

Of the unconditional love.

She sees the ring on his left hand, resting across his chest. He had not told her much about that time. She had gleaned most from her conversation with Fenn. She had marveled at Croft's strength.

She is fairly certain that his strength was nothing compared to that of the formidable young woman who had pulled him back to life after the Jedi died. With nothing more than her fighting skills and a huge heart. She smiles. _And a large hammer._

For all of her empathic abilities, the Zeltron doesn't realize that he is in awe of her strength and love as well.

He makes a sound in his sleep. Her eyes drop as she hears the word. Something she had not been able to heal. None of her training, her degrees, or her empathic ability. Because of his uncertainty.

Her eyes tear. She hears the word again. _Ahsoka._ One that she has heard in equal parts with the name of his Master, his wife, and his child, in the night. As well as others that she shares as her own.

Her eyes widen. A gentle smile splits his face. She is transfixed by the expression. An expression of hope.

A glimpse of movement on the trail to the lake catches her eye outside the window in the early morning light.

A tiny, gray-furred Drall limps slowly around the lake. Something tickles her memory. A memory of a small child in her mother's arms, resting against her mother's bronze skin.

When she looks back, the small being is gone.

As if a wraith.

She feels a warmth on her neck. She turns and hugs the now-wakened ex-Jedi to her tightly as he comes up behind her.

"Dreams again, Taliesin?" she asks. He smiles. "Yeah. But these weren't too bad." He looks down. "Can't be calling me that after this morning, Boss," he says.

"I know." She kisses him on his cheek, then his lips. A brief glimpse of pain flashes across his face as she kisses the end of his nose.

"How does it feel to be reborn, Bryne?" she asks.

He is quiet for a moment as he looks out the window over her shoulder. 

"It feels like I made it," he says, as the morning sun breaks further into the window.

Later, after they have left, a small orange being walks into the room.

On the bed is a worn, brown leather jacket. The sort worn by the cocky pilots who had spilled over into the Republic Navy from the Judicials.

Maz smiles as the ghosts of the past recede.

~+~+~+~+~+

Queen Breha of Alderaan screams.

She screams as she releases, as her nails scrape down the naked back of her lover. Their breathing slows, as they roll to their sides.

Bail Organa laughs gently at her expression as she falls against him bonelessly. His lips move down to her breasts, then back up to her throat.

Finally, their lips drink in each other hungrily. As they break apart, he rolls to his back onto the rug in front of the fireplace.

His Queen moves her head to the crook of his arm. He surveys their clothes strewn around the office of the Viceroy-Consort and Senator of Alderaan.

_Guess you were taking care of the 'Consort' part._

He smiles as he hears her musical, joyful laughter. "So, has your staff figured out what our meetings of state every week entails?" she asks.

"They probably could have if I hadn't installed the masking devices in here. Someone is quite loud in their directives to their Viceroy."

He grunts as her elbow slips into his ribs. He kisses her to prevent more damage.

She feels him grow serious. She looks down. She knows what is coming.

He is gentle, as he always is. "Bre, you can't be charging off across the universe with our hard fighters at the drop of a hat." He kisses her again. "You scared the shit out of me when I realized you and two of our ships were gone."

She moves her lips to his throat. "I know. But I had to do something to find my family. Something that wouldn't involve you."

"Well, you kind of did when you involved Ahsoka. As well as my assistant. An assistant, I might add, who is probably going to be cleaning the hulls of those two ships. With a toothbrush. Fulcrum might have the other toothbrush when she fully recovers."

He gasps as her hand moves down and circles him. "Don't go too hard on them, love. I put Nola in a tough position with her loyalty to us both."

He tries to breathe and think at her touch. "Are you trying to manipulate me, your Majesty?"

"Only a certain part of you, my consort."

"Bre, I try to keep you out of what I am doing. With Fulcrum and the others. So that if I am caught, there is a chance that you and Leia can survive and get away."

"Bail, my love, I am a part of this fight, whether you like it or not. For the memory of Padme´if nothing else."

His eyes grow as sad as hers. She suddenly smiles. "Speaking of Padme´, I can certainly see her influence over that magnificent young warrior you have working for you. Ahsoka was incredible, based on what I saw and what I hear from Dek."

He nods, thinking of his hope that another's influence is not too strong in his paladin. _Only the love._

"Bail, I may have done something very wrong."

"Just one thing?" he asks with a grin. His smile fades. "What is it Bre?" 

"Ahsoka. She met Leia. I..." She gathers herself. He nods. "She sensed the Force in her," he finishes for her.

"Yes," she whispers. She rests her head against his chest. "I know that she wanted to talk to me about it. I get the idea that she wants to help."

He rests his chin on her hair. "Do you think that she knows who she really is? Whose daughter....."

"She might suspect, but I think that she is smart enough to never mention it."

He looks over shoulder. "If she is ever caught...." Breha's face crumples. "Bail, if she is ever caught, I think she would be dead before they can ask her anything," she says with a sob. He closes his eyes and nods.

"Bail, I think that she can help. She can maybe teach her to shield or whatever it is that they do. She has had to develop her own shields, since the Jedi died," the Queen says. She smiles against his chest. "Plus she is good with Leia. Our little terror is in awe of her; wants to go swimming with her."

They both fall silent. Bail finally nods. "I think that it might be good for Ahsoka to have some contact with her. The Mother knows that she needs something besides being Fulcrum. We'll have to be careful to keep her true identity from Leia."

"She only knows her as 'Soka. Fulcrum was careful."

"I'll talk to her. To see if she is willing to teach Leia shielding techniques."

Breha reaches up and kisses him. "I love you, my Senator."

"I love you, my Queen."

With a quick move, she flips over on top of him. She starts to kiss her way down his chest. "Think we need to finish our 'meeting,' Viceroy," she says between kisses.

As she reaches his middle, he manages to gasp out. "By your command, my Queen."

~+~+~+~+~+

Draq' Bel Iblis places his hand on the lower back of his daughter as he walks through the door of his outer office. He can see the change in her. The new purpose in her calm eyes. 

He doesn't ask where the Covenant is.

The Dragon's eyes narrow as he sees his admin droid still; her photoreceptors dark.

He stops short. Dani notices. "What is it, Draq'?" Dani says. He shakes his head. "Odd for her to be shut down, now." He continues to walk towards his inner office. He stops again at the door. A low hum, almost imperceptible comes from the room. He looks at his officer. "I turned that damned filter off before I left last night."

The Dragon reaches down to his ankle and brings up a small blaster. Dani puts her own left hand at the small of her back, but stops. A warm smile comes over her beautiful features as a familiar sensation starts in the back of her neck.

The sensation moves down to her heart. She smirks. _Yes, and lower._

Draq´ takes a deep breath and pushes through the door. He stops short. Dani can see the emotions play over his face as he sees the figure sitting at his desk with his feet on the surface.

She can see him move to anger.

A man now known as Bryne Covenant sits at a Dragon's desk. Dressed in his now-familiar spacer's garb.

One of the Procurator's expensive cigars in his mouth. A snifter of forty-year old brandy at his elbow.

He looks at his uncle's, now his employer's thunderous features. His green eyes are steady with his amusement. The crooked smile plays on his face.

"You know, your security is for shit. I just walked on in," he says. Draq' walks over and shoves the younger man's boots off of the desk. "Well, it works on a facial and body language recognition protocol. Plus that shield you seem to have lifted from my officer, here, grants you authorization. But not to my office. Not to shutting my OW unit down. Not to defeating the most sophisticated lock I can find on my liquor closet and humidor."

"Like I said, it's for shit, old man."

"Listen, Junior. I pulled your ass out of your own filth on Takodana. I am giving you a second chance. One that not many of your kind got. So maybe a little respect might be in order," the Dragon says. "You can be replaced."

Covenant quirks an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Is that why you sent the best officer in CorSec a thousand parsecs out of her way to find me? That you have developed a legend almost from my birth for me? A legend that you had your little bastard leak on the Holonet. A leak that put me in the sights of an ISB agent."

For the first time, Draq' smiles."From what I hear, you didn't exactly fight him off."

Covenant smirks, "Maybe he just spoke Togruti. Wanted to see if my first name was descriptive. Seeing that the little shit that I claim as my older brother decided to manifest his twisted sense of humor and name me for a brand of breakfast sausage on Shili."

"You mean a brand of cocktail sausage," Draq' says. Dani's eyes roll. "Look, Dragon," she says. "He is here. Your nephew is alive and whole. Try to live in that moment." Her gaze shifts to the younger man. "And you, Sausage. Your uncle loves you and sent me after you on nothing but a goddamned hunch that you might be alive. How about both of you dial back the testosterone and celebrate that fact."

Both men are silent; not meeting each other's gaze. Covenant stands up, puts the cigar in an ashtray. "It is good to see you, Uncle. I have missed you. I guess I could've contacted you, but I have been wallowing in my own pain and grief for a long time."

Draq's eyes are unreadable. "Since the Jedi died? Since Shaak....." He stops as he feels Dani's heart sink through the resonance. 

Covenant walks over to Dani and takes her hand in his. He turns to Draq'. He smiles sadly. "Not for the whole time. There was about a year and a half that I felt whole."

Draq' nods. He walks over to the younger pair. Dani drops Covenant's hand. "I also could not live with the guilt if I had contacted you and something had happened to Corellia." His lip quirks up. "Wouldn't be a very good Covenant if that happened."

Draq' shakes his head. "You let me worry about that, son," he says quietly. As if by an unspoken word, the two men move towards one another. As they embrace, Dani can see moisture in the Dragon's eyes.

After a long moment, they break apart. The Dragon gets the last word. Or tries.

"And stay the fuck out of my good cigars and brandy. A hundred credits is coming out of your first paycheck for the one that you smoked and the snort that you drank."

"Oh, well. Only have worried about money in the last three years." A smirk worthy of his adopted culture plays over his features. "Plus, if you paid fifty for that one, you got taken. It's a knock-off."

As they snark at one another, they don't see the tears spilling freely down the young officer's crimson cheeks. Senior Inspector Daaineran Faygan is thinking of the past. She thinks of two words for a future.

_Home._

_Hope._

~+~+~+~+~+

Dek Antilles stands in the shower, letting the hot water play over his shoulders. The soreness from being tossed around in the rescue ship as it evaded Imperial sensors that played hell with his muscles.

He smiles as he thinks of the people that had helped him. The young Togruta, reeling from the affliction of her people, then stepping in front of a blaster bolt for her friend. His uncle's assistant. His aunt, the Queen.

The unknown fighters who had blown up the Empire's experiment station.

He looks around the small 'fresher in the small cabin on an unknown world. His money, as well as the support from various benefactors would allow him to do his research in peace, far away from galactic tyranny and conflict.

Although the dedication of those fighters; the two young women, the older Togruta female, Dala Ti, his family, was something that gave him pause. They had risked their lives for him, not just for some esoteric cause, a cause that logic tells him is doomed from the start.

Even the man who had provided him with IDs and other tangible help did so out of a sense of honor. Honor to his past. To his men who he had felt a kinship to.

He smiles. He is fairly certain that no one from one side who helped him needs to know about the other side. 

Dek plunges his head under the scalding stream. His eyes grow pained as he thinks of the clones that he couldn't save. The ones who are now 'marching far away,' as he had been told they called death, in the manner of their Mando influences.

He knows from his sources that the Empire has not been able to replicate the tissue for more than a few hundred elite soldiers. Not the entire legions that they would have if they had gotten their hands on him. His face grows serious. He knows that he would not have been able to withstand their coercion techniques. 

It is why he is living in the small cabin under an assumed name. With only one other being allowed access. A being who would never betray him, for his own reasons. 

His own sense of honor. 

For other reasons, as well. He hears the door to the 'fresher open as that being steps in. He closes his eyes and smiles. He can see the shadows playing on the glass of the shower, as the figure disrobes.

The door opens. A strong set of arms surrounds his chest and stomach. Both hands track down to his middle; they grasp what they find.

He feels warm lips on his neck. Dek starts from a slight bite to his neck. He smiles and turns around. 

He looks into the dark eyes of the interloper, as their lips touch. His tongue caresses those lips under the mustache as the mouth opens. They break free for air. 

Dav Kolan gently kisses him again. The singularities that are his eyes, are uncharacteristically soft as they search his. He wonders what would happen if he got too close to the event horizon. "Hey, nerd," Dav says. "Wanna show a sailor a good time?"

"I might could be persuaded," the scientist replies, "if the sailor stops calling me 'nerd."

"Ahh, too many conditions. Guess I'll just have to show him a good time, instead."

He sees the troubled look on Dek's face. "What's up, love?" Kolan asks, as he smooths the furrowed brow. "Just thinking about those clones that we couldn't save. That there will be genetic enhancements on Imperial troops."

"Thanks to you, only a few will have to undergo them, Dek," Kolan says. The scientist leans against the agent. The agent easily takes the weight. "Why did you help me, Dav? You are as loyal a soldier as there is."

Kolan is silent. "I believe in the rule of law. In order. The Empire represents that. I don't think I will ever be a rebel, but if they go against my personal sense of honor or," he looks pointedly at the Alderaani scientist, "those I care about or have grown to care about, I will intervene."

"I know, but you could get put up against a wall and shot just for what you did, for protecting me."

"Yeah, I know. Believe me I know," Kolan says ruefully. "But my _Vod'e_ were my responsibility when I was flying for the Republic. I fought, bled, and died a little when they didn't come back. One saved me from dying, at the risk of his own life when I got this little boo-boo," he says, touching the scar. "I also shared berths with a few as well." He looks down. "One I loved more than I had any other in my young life."

Dek is silent as he pulls Kolan's head to his lips. He traces the scar with his tongue. Kolan's eyes close. "Enough politics," he whispers. "Let's just live."

At that, Kolan kisses the younger scientist again. Dek can feel his arousal growing as their centers touch. Dav puts his callused hands on either side of Dek's face. The agent begins to trace his lips and tongue down the scientist's chest.

The light blossoms in Dek Antilles' head as Dav's warmth engulfs his center.

The water grows cold as his cries echo in the 'fresher.

As Kolan busies himself with bringing an explosion, his mind is on the magnitude of what he has done.


	16. Cabur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabur - (Mando'a) Protector
> 
> The return of the Covenant.

**Six months later**  
**Corellia**

Nola Vorserrie stands nursing her drink at the reception. She has just politely rebuffed the Dressellian assistant Consul from asking her to perform an elaborate mating dance of his clan back in his room. She sighs. _Next time, I try and figure out how the hell I can get out of this or see if I can delegate staffing Bail to someone else._ She gives a Fulcrum-level smirk. _Like that will ever happen._

Bail Organa comes into the room and motions her to follow him. She sighs. _Wonder what the hell Tano is doing now? Something dangerous, I am sure._

She smiles at the memory of the morning six months ago when they had woken each other with gentle lips and fingers for their 'annual wrestling match' as Nola had taken to calling it.

Nola closes her eyes as she remembers the gentle cries and tastes of each other, as they touched the light.

Away from the struggle and the fight. The death. She remembers them holding each other after their finish, as they remembered the close calls of the week before.

Only one day before they had exploded at each other over Ahsoka's assessment of the risk-reward ratio of a particular meet she was headed for. _Goddammit, No-no. Would you quit worrying? I know what the hell I am doing._

_Yeah, Tano. You know what the hell you're doing. You're just doing it about two damned weeks too soon after what you went through._

_It isn't your job to tell me what to do, No-no. You're supposed to support me._

_Supporting you doesn't mean letting you fucking kill yourself._

Bail had watched them spin and walk away from each other with thunderous expressions, his own expression equal parts concerned and amused.

She shakes her head. Within a week, her pain-in-the-ass was back out in the Outer Rim, hopefully being a pain-in-the-ass to the Empire. _Still a week earlier than she needed to be._ Neither of them had spoken before she had left.

_It might be that we should never have another wrestling match, even for our comfort._

She closes her eyes as she thinks of the day that she has to let the huntress die for a greater purpose.

A deep voice clearing its throat brings her back to the present. She blushes at keeping her boss waiting. The man who will bear the true burden of sending Fulcrum to her end.

She looks up. He is smirking at her. The Naboo walks over. "I have to go smooth things over with the Dressellian assistant Consul because I and I quote, 'didn't offer my woman up for barter on the trade deal."

Nola smirks, gently. "Hope I am still not on the table."

He smiles. "No. Never. But just remember that a little dancing never hurt anyone." Their shared laughter sends away dark thoughts of death.

He grows serious. "I need you to meet with Draq' Bel Iblis. See if you can offer up any solutions to the Garm and Mon Mothma situation."

"Besides shooting them both?"

"Yes. Besides that, Nola," he says patiently. "Methinks our paladin has rubbed off on you a bit much at the expense of your diplomatic skills."

"How do you know I haven't rubbed off on her?" she says. "Point taken," the Senator says.

She nods and heads to a smaller meeting room. Bail stays and watches her go, fondly.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka Tano wrestles with the struggling creature as it kicks and screams. She already bears a growing bruise around her eye from a mistimed kick.

She smiles as she remembers the fierce little creature bursting into tears when it had happened. She had taken the little girl in her arms and soothed her.

Soothed her and then began another round with tickles and raspberries. She dips the giggling burden into the water of the lake. An unexpected early finish to her contacts in the Rim, one without violence for once, had brought her to Alderaan for more than just a swimming lesson.

As she swings Leia up, the girl's arms grasp her around her neck. She is careful not to touch Ahsoka's lekku.

The huntress wouldn't mind. _Family is allowed._ She places one chubby hand on her left lek. She sees the concentration as Leia analyzes the different texture. The young girl pulls her closer. Ahsoka Smirks at the bathing suit she is wearing. She had won that battle before the little girl had stripped down.

Ahsoka had managed to find a brief top and shorts reminiscent of her original Jedi battledress for the swimming lessons. The search had been for naught when Breha, Queen of Alderaan and its system had stripped her clothes off and dove into the water.

Leia had started to, but a certain look from her mother had brooked no further argument.

The same look that Ahsoka had been subjected to a few times.

There had been only a few questions about differences before Ahsoka had thrown Leia into the water. She had come up screaming and laughing with joy. Breha had gasped, but had seen the warrior's outstretched hand ready to pull the child to safety.

After the first lesson, she had donned the makeshift suit, to make Breha more at ease. _Since she had stepped out of her comfort zone..._

She looks at Breha, seated on the shore. Their eyes meet. _It is time for different lessons._

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola walks into the room. Several people sit around a table, conversing easily. A Dragon rises, smiling. He takes her hands in his and looks at her. She is one of the few people that he finds it hard to look down on. He kisses her cheek and folds her into his arms. She rests against his chest, remembering the past.

"Hey, No-no. Damn you have grown." She smiles, gently. "It is good to see you, Dragon." Some others in the room are struck by the easy familiarity. 

Others are not, but smile broadly.

"How is your father, Nola? Haven't heard from him." She looks down. "He is doing okay. He managed to sell the company with a decent profit and still look after his people." Her lips turn downward. "Haven't seen him in a while, either. Not since...."

_Not since the Empire slaughtered my Queen and I had to flee one step ahead of them._

Draq' kisses her cheek again. "I know, sweetie. I know."

She breaks away from him gently. "I would love to catch up, Procurator, but we have business. Like trying to keep your asshole son from destroying a few things that my boss has put together."

The aforementioned asshole son rises, anger darkening his eyes. Nola stares him down. Draq' turns with amusement. "Garm, you might want to be sitting down. You are outclassed and outnumbered before you even begin."

Garm's eyes calm. He smiles at Nola and remains standing. He looks behind Draq' and sends a brief, telling glance to his father. The elder Dragon nods.

"Before, business, though. There is someone who wants to see her foster-sister very badly. He steps aside. As he does, the warmth that she had been feeling cascades around her. She steps into Dani's warm embrace. Draq' jerks his head at the rest of the room. The hangers-on and Garm, as well as the Dragon of Corellia file out of the room, leaving the two women alone.

"I am so sorry, Dani, about your heart-bond. I could see how much you meant to each other, just one time meeting her."

"Thanks, little sister. I am so glad that you were able to escape Apailana's assassination alive."

Nola's eyes tear even more. "I should've died with them, by rights." Dani puts her fingers over Nola's lips. "No. She sent you on that mission for a reason, No-no. So that Bail could get the information about the Jedi survivors. It was just too late." She takes Nola's face in her hands and moves her forehead against the Naboo's chest. "I think she also wanted someone to bear witness, my love. Someone to survive. I am just selfishly glad it was you and that the 501st couldn't identify you."

Her warm hands caress Nola's cheeks. She reaches up on tiptoes and kisses her gently. Her lips linger for a moment and the warmth suffuses the fixer's body. _Zeltron._ "So, big little sis, you getting any lately?"

"Not really. Had a few flings here and there. Not really since Finder...."

She shakes her head of those memories. "I have more important things on my plate, right now." Dani smiles and releases her. "Want to hear every detail, No-no. Just to see if I taught you well after I left and you grew up."

"I don't know. Had to remediate with the other Handmaidens," she snarks. Their laughter warms both of them. "We better get on with me taking your boss's son to task for his asinine feud."

"Good luck with that, girl. Believe me we have tried. That woman has her claws into him so deep that he can't see out of his eyes."

The door opens as if on cue. "Let's find the good and do it, love," Dani says. _Wonder where she picked that up?_ Nola thinks drily.

~+~+~+~+~+

Three hours later, Nola Vorserrie's right hand is twitching on her right hip, where her Naboo blaster was customarily holstered in less civilized enclaves. _Less civilized, my ass. Would rather be in a Hutt palace than trying to convince a stubborn bantha like Garm Bel Iblis to make nice._

Especially since the biggest dispute is that his wife seems to be playing a great deal of footsy with the Imperial advisor to Corellia's Diktat. That she seems to love words like 'order' and the 'rule of law' more than 'liberty' and 'rights.'

She sighs. _Maybe Garm is just caught in the middle. With her hand firmly on the 'tiller.'_

Movement to Garm's side distracts her. A man of medium height leans down and puts his hand on the Senator's shoulder. Garm's eyes flash and then suddenly calms as the man whispers in his ear. 

Another functionary distracts Nola with a question. When she looks up, Garm and the mysterious stranger have left. With that, the meeting breaks up.

With no resolution to the issue. Issues that could tear apart Bail's movement that he and Mon Mothma and others have worked so hard for.

A movement that a young Togruta ex-Jedi has given her life's blood for. On several occasions.

She sighs and stands. Draq' rises with her, his expression guarded. "No-no, you can see this is going to be harder than I thought. I really don't know what Garm's hard-on for Mon Mothma is. Something is running deeper than his wife's Imperial leanings."

She purses her lips. "I know, Procurator. But we are going to have to figure something out. It feels like Bail is going to put it in my lap. Garm is going to be my problem."

"No more than mine, my dear. He is my son. His wife is the mother of my future grandchildren, in spite of my low regard for her. She has already about caused me to limit his contact in the Electoral Council."

Nola's eyebrows raise. She realizes the import of this action for the Five Brothers. The Electoral Council of the Elder Family. The body that serves in lieu of the closest thing that the Corellians have to a monarch - the Elector.

A position subject to dynastic disputes and even murder in the past.

Draq' smiles his patented reptilian smile. "I have also assigned a couple of my comedians to babysit my son and try to keep him from saying or doing anything stupid while we are here."

He pulls her into an embrace and kisses her cheek. "Nola, if I can do anything to get you where you can see your family, let me know. Family is everything."

She closes her eyes against the tears. "I know, Dragon. I miss them, but don't want to put them in any danger."

She squeezes him again and he is gone.

Nola sighs and thinks of her argument with Ahsoka. _Seems like a pissy little thing, now, after seeing this bullshit._

She walks into the larger reception room. Her eyes track around the room. She spies the gray business suit that had taken Garm from the room. From her limited attention, it had been a 'polite but firm' exit.

She looks at the man standing in the background. If she hadn't seen him with Garm, she would've never noticed him. Her heart flips as she locks eyes with him. Her eyes widen as she is transported from the ornate reception hall to a tiny, frigid cell on a desert world, almost five years ago. She is no longer clad in her subdued business attire. She is clad in the rags of her underwear, nursing a broken arm and several stints with a Magnaguard's electro staff.

As well as lying on the cold cell floor next to the corpse of a clone Captain, his eyes open and staring beneath the blaster hole in his forehead. Killed because she had not answered her tormentor, a Nemoidian sleemo named Lok Durd, quickly enough for his taste.

A so-called scientist who had delighted in running experiments on her suffering. 

The warm green eyes that stare back at her in shock and amazement had belonged to one of the team who had helped her escape.

She walks over to him, about to say a name. His green eyes lance into hers. He gives an imperceptible shake of his head.

Her new would-be suitor stops her before she can go any further. She manages to push him away without a major galactic diplomatic incident or broken bones. When she has finally rebuffed him, the man in the gray suit is gone.

She curses as she digests just what she saw.

A man who should be dead. As dead as his Master, Shaak Ti, her foster-sister's love. Nola looks around to see if she can find Dani.

None of the Corellian delegation can be found.

The man that she knew as Taliesin Croft, who had helped her escape a living hell when she was fifteen years old, is nowhere to be found.

~+~+~+~+~+

Nola walks into her room. She kicks off her shoes and throws her bag down. The small blaster makes a _thunk_ as it hits the table. Her thoughts are troubled by the man that she had seen earlier.

The danger that he has put himself in. She shakes her head. She is not even sure it was him.

It might have been wishful thinking. Her tired mind is questioning her sight of him. 

She throws her clothes off and walks into the fresher. After she finishes, she walks out in her ratty sweats and bare feet.

The man in the gray business suit is sitting on her couch. She feels a breeze from the open window. _The means of ingress. A seventh-floor window._ She judges the distance to her bag with the blaster. She realizes that he is holding the blaster butt forward to her. He stands and walks to her. She takes the blaster and checks it. 

It is as she had left it. She looks at the man. She analyzes his face as if she had never seen him.

The crooked smile flows to his face and her analysis ends. She can see his face clearly now; before it had seemed fuzzy.

His hair is much shorter and is completely gray, as gray as his business suit. There is no thick beard in alternating dark and light hues.

Only a short bit of hair around his mouth and on his chin. All dark.

The eyes are the same. Warm green eyes with gold flecks look at her steadily. She runs her fingertips lightly over his forehead, tracing the new scars over his eye and the center of his forehead. She can see the tiniest hint of burns around the scarring.

His smile flows easily to his face again. Her eyes tear. She whispers a name.

The man's smile wavers a tiny bit at the name, but returns to its warm, crooked intensity. "Hello, Last Word," he says in the same Corellian drawl, overlaid with a bit of a Mandalorian inflection. 

"Hey, Hero," she replies. "It is good to see you," she whispers, nearly overcome.

Her hand drops from his face. She bends down and her head rests on his shoulder. "You've grown a bit."

"No, you just have shrunk," she snarks back before she can contain herself. His smile grows against her cheek. "Just might have, No-no," he whispers. "I have been mostly dead."

She pulls her head off of his shoulder and looks at him. Her lips touch his, just as they had for a brief time before Dani took her to find transport and he went off to blow things up. This time, she allows her tongue to run over his lips. After a moment's hesitation, he opens his mouth. Their tongues touch and duel. 

They break away, but remain in each other's arms. "Nola, as much as I would like nothing more than to take you to that bed over there, I don't think this is what we need after seeing each other for five minutes."

She smirks. "So, tomorrow night, then?" He grins ruefully. "Sadly, I will probably be on Garm-watch, since Mon Mothma is coming in."

"Oh, so you're one of Draq's comedians, now?" Her eyes widen in realization. "With Dani?"

"Yep," he says. "Inspector Bryne Covenant, Corellian Security, at your service, ma'am." He looks down. "Dani is my boss, much to my chagrin."

"Probably a boss that you get to share a bed with, even when you're not doing anything."

"You might think that, but I couldn't possibly comment." She touches his cheek again. "She does that if she is teaching you something or to help you heal." His lips move into her palm. "While you look like you could learn a few things, I think it is more the latter."

He remains silent. Her hand moves down his chest. She feels a shape under his dress shirt. Her fingers trace down his left hand. Her eyes catch on the ring on his third finger. His eyes are guarded.

Guarded and for an instant, full of pain. They return to their warmth in half a second. Her eyes track further down to a small object hanging from his belt. A silver chain with a triangular object. Her eyes widen as she recognizes it as a tooth. 

A tooth identical to the one that she had seen in a huntress's meager possessions. On a headdress that she no longer wore.

Her heart sinks as she remembers listening to a name repeated in a nightmare, when she had first met the warrior.

She brings her face up to his; tries to keep her expression normal, as she reels inside.

Her mouth is halfway open. She looks down. _It is not my place to tell him._

"So what did you mean, you've been mostly dead?"

His eyes lock with hers."For a good amount of the last four years, I have been wallowing in my grief. For about a year and a half, I lived. I stood and lived." He touches the ring. "That man is dead. Taliesin Croft died on Kamino with the Jedi. He just didn't know it."

He smiles. She touches his lips with hers again. "I know you work for Bail. We work for different worlds, but I will tell you that I am back in the fight. In the fight until the end." He touches his chest where the object she had felt rested. "As a protector."

"No matter the cost."

He touches her face. It is her turn to push her cheek into his palm. She touches his chest. Over his heart. She hears the words of another young ex-Jedi echoing his, as she lay in the fixer's arms.

_It is what I was born to do._

His lips quirk up in a one-sided smile. "Nola, I do need you to keep this close to you. My world could suffer if anyone knew a member of the Order, even one who left, is alive. 

His hands move to her back. His smile turns into the grin she had known. "Unless you are going to throw me on the floor, right now, you look like you could use some serious sleep, Nola Vorrserrie."

She must be tired, as she doesn't engage. "I could, Ta...Bryne," she says, covering her near-gaffe "it has been a long day." She smiles hopefully at him. "Would you have breakfast with me tomorrow morning? I'd love to talk. Someplace private?"

"How about room-service? Would you mind if Dani joined us?"

She nods. _Maybe it will keep me from saying something I shouldn't, if she is there. About who is alive._

Nola smiles and hugs him to her. "Give Dani a squeeze for me, if you see her," she says. He looks down and nods gently.

As he leaves, Nola sits in front of the door. Tears spill down her cheeks at the added dimension of the secret of Fulcrum.

Of Ahsoka Tano.

A two secrets she must now keep from a loved one of her huntress and from the huntress, herself.

Of her life. Of his, after a fashion.

~+~+~+~+~+

Ahsoka floats in the brilliant sunlight. Her lekku twitch in relaxation. Her left hand holds a smaller one close. Leia is grinning as she floats next to the warrior. 

The ex-Jedi reaches out to the mystical energy field. She can feel the bright presence next to her. A bright presence like a songbird trying to fly. "Leia, sweetie. I need you to do something for me. It will keep you safe while you are floating."

"What is it 'Soka?" the girl asks. "Just a way to help you float, love. It will help you with your balance on land, too."

_True enough._

"Okay, 'Soka," she says. "Also, sweetie, you can only talk about this with me or your Momma or Dad. Okay?"

"Okay, 'Soka."

Ahsoka takes a deep breath. "You know that little bright light you see in your head? The bright golden one?"

"Yeah. What is it, 'Soka?"

"It is you, love. Now listen closely," she says to cut off any other questions that she can't answer.

"Think of that little light in a bubble as you float. A big bubble at first. As you continue to float, let that bubble get smaller and smaller."

"This is hard, 'Soka," she says. Ahsoka can see the concentration on the little girl's face. "Easy, babe. Relax. You need to relax, Leia. Open yourself up. She tries to make her voice as soothing as she can. She remembers Anakin's voice as they formed their training bond. The huge ball of kinetic energy that was her Master.

 _Her Skyguy._ She thinks of his soothing, calming voice as he fought to remember lessons from Obi-wan. Of his frustration and hers as she tried and failed to accomplish the tasks.

She knows that she cannot fail with Leia. Too much is at stake. She feels her heartrate increase and her concentration slipping.

She stops; lets Anakin's soothing voice flow into her. She can hear him echoed in her own voice.

Just as they try it for the fifth time and Leia is on the verge of tears, she feels a shift.

She feels the presence in her head from the little girl next to her shrink. Shrink to where it is no more than a tiny pinprick in the back of her neck.

"I did it 'Soka! I did it!"

She touches the girls arm, gently. "Yes, you did, sweetie. See if you can hold it for another fifteen minutes."

"Okay, 'Soka."

As the minutes tick down, she feels the girl relax even more. She smiles. 

The smile fades as another voice comes into her head. A calm voice with a drawling inflection. Teaching her. Her triumph when she got the lesson right.

Of someone now more than a teacher. Someone who is somehow stuck in her Force sense, even though she knows he has to be dead with the rest.

The fifteen minutes are up. "Race you!" she says. She flips in the water and starts to make for the shore. She slows slightly as the laughing little girl swims with ever-powerful strokes.

It ends in a tie at the feet of Queen Breha. During the entire swim to the shore, she had only felt intermittent glimpses of the little light beside her. She remembers the deep voice of Plo Koon. "If you can hold the shield for fifteen minutes, the basic shield should be established. You will need to practice forming the shield, even at night."

Queen Breha holds a towel for Ahsoka, as Sabe´holds one for Leia. "Remember what we talked about, my little mouse," she says, "practice it tonight and every night after your prayers. You won't even have to think about it."

The little girl grabs Ahsoka around the waist and squeezes tightly. "I love you 'Soka." She is gone before the warrior can reply. She closes her eyes. She feels Breha's arms around her chest over the towel. She feels a warm pair of lips on her cheek. "Thank you, my dear one," the Queen whispers. She breaks free and smiles. "Perhaps I will come tomorrow while Leia is at that party. I found it kind of freeing to swim like you, dear."

"I would welcome it, my Queen." Ahsoka says. One last touch of her cheek and the Queen turns to leave. "Sleep well, Ahsoka," she says.

After they leave, Ahsoka doesn't go into the cabin. Instead, she strips off her clothes and kneels as she was taught. She concentrates on the green, purple, and gold light that has been nagging her since Bonu-Delan. She thinks of a bubble around it; shrinking until she can barely sense it.

That night, she tosses and turns as she dreams of death and chaos. Something she had only rarely done since the light had been in her head.

Ahsoka wakes, tears streaming down her face.

She wipes them and remembers a mantra she had repeated in the days after her trial. In the days after she had kissed a hunter goodbye to find her path.

_She is Ahsoka Tano. She does not cry._

She comes out of the bed with a sigh. She picks up her comm and sends a text to a little droid near a hidden hangar bay.

She sends another to a Queen, breaking the swim date the next day. She has given Leia a powerful basis for shielding that she will practice and build upon.

It is time to go back to the fight. 

~+~+~+~+~+

Draq' Bel Iblis looks at his son with clinched teeth as another stupid-ass statement comes from his mouth while they stand with Bail Organa, waiting for the arrival of Mon Mothma.

Bail Organa looks sympathetically at him as they both turn away. "Draq', he is going to make an ass of himself when Mon gets here." The Corellian nods, his eyes pensive. "I know, Bail. I was hoping that my babysitters would be here by now. Guess that you can't get good help anymore."

A smile flows to Bail's handsome features. "Obviously," he says, warmth flowing into his voice. He points with his head at the door. Draq' turns as laughter erupts from the door.

The hopes of his world enter the room, arm-in-arm with another young woman, who, in her own way, will help make the man standing next to him's dream of a free galaxy realized. Apparently, along with another, who is off fighting the fight already. As she has been for nearly three years since her people were slaughtered.

Bail sees an expression that he does not often see on the worldly galactic mover's face. An expression of raw love, quickly replaced by his customary look of snark and calculation.

They watch Nola hug both of them to her for at least a full minute. Both men can feel the emotional spillover from Dani's resonance.

From all three of them. Unbridled joy and love. Tempered by pain for those not present.

Draq' looks at his paladin. An ordinary-looking man of medium height in a business suit. Bail watches his eyes tear as he sees Dani kiss him on the cheek and turn away.

Bail is struck by the fact that he feels that he and the paladin have met before. He cannot place it. He shakes his head and turns to watch Draq'.

Covenant's green eyes track over the small crowd, his eyes wary of all. Bail realizes that he is wearing a silver chain with an odd-shaped talisman outside of his shirt.

The symbol of an ancient title. Bail realizes that Draq' intends to announce that the Elder Family of Corellia has found its heir. 

Its protector. He sighs. This can most probably mean that Garm will be even more pissed off at the end of these meetings. He knows that Draq' will not put the spotlight on Covenant, as that bears its own risk.

Apparently, the same one that would ensue if Fulcrum was exposed. Thoughts of his own paladin bring his own hopeful smile to Bail Organa's lips. He thinks of the nickname that he has heard for the Corellian. The Storm-King. Given for his melee-style of fighting.

He will need a code-name when he does join the movement, Bail thinks idly. He smiles.

_Tempest._

He realizes how apt it is as he sees a Dragon walk over to him, his expression dark. He watches the amused expression on Covenant's face as the Dragon speaks to him, turn briefly to his own thunder, then back to his amused look. 

The Covenant of Corellia stands there before the old man. Organa is struck by an incredible sight. An impression of the warrior's feet locking to the deck in response.

Covenant's face is split again by the warm grin. Without a word, Bail watches the younger man place his hands on the taller man's shoulders. Draq's expression softens as he brings his paladin into his embrace.

Bail sees a young Zeltron, the daughter of that Dragon, walk up to the two men, tears in her eyes. After a moment, she joins the embrace.

They stand there as if the galaxy itself, not just the meeting is at a standstill. Bail sees Garm nodding, a slight smile on his face.

Nola walks up next to him. He can tell that she is thinking of another; what this might mean for her everyday safety in her struggle, if it can come to fruition.

Or would it be more dangerous for all?

They live in the moment as the three break away. Nola sees the Covenant look at the horizon. His eyes, she can see, are not in this room.

No matter.

The Protectors have returned.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Bothan Jailbreak Blues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269128) by [B_Radley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley)
  * [Vode An: The General](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702074) by [B_Radley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley)




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